A New Journey
by StoryDiva
Summary: Post season three except Maria chose not to go with the rest of them. Her life afterwards but can she ever really move on when danger seems to lurk everywhere?
1. Part One: A Beginning of Sorts

**Title:** A New Journey 

**Chapter: ** Part One - The Prologue (roswell) 

**Author: ** storydivagirl [at] hotmail [dot] com 

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine. Belongs to Jason Katims and such. Just a big fan, especially maria/michael fan. 

**A/N: ** My first Roswell story worth posting thus far. Feedback always welcome-the good, bad, and ugly. To keep up with my writings and such, I maintain a livejournal. My username = storydivagirl 

**Part One - The Prologue (Roswell)**

Rarely, if ever, have I found myself in a particular situation where I knew how to listen to my heart. Even now, when the center of my world finally seems to have moved passed those rough times and my feet are firmly planted in the here and now, I sometimes have to let someone else close to me, someone I trust, tell me what I'm thinking. I don't trust my heart or my gut. It so frequently undermined my thought process, the little bit of prudence I have always managed to maintain, and I found myself acting out in preposterous fashion. 

Like the time I set out to locate my friends. They were no more really, having long ago traded in their identities, their lives, for a world on the run, a world where I didn't belong. After all, I wasn't really one of them, no distinguishing marks or alien-like abilities. I was an outsider that had words like "better off" and "lucky" tossed at her, but feeling neither of those sentiments, feeling betrayed that these people who owned my world for three years were moving on without me. 

"Maria, you need to decide what you want to do," Liz had told her. 

"I know." 

"You can have a life. A life I'll never get to have," Liz stated. She stated it like she was making the decision for me, like she knew I would be incapable of turning my back on her and Michael and the rest of them. She smiled weakly in my direction, hugged me, and said, "He wants that for you too, you know." 

I smiled and repeated, "I know." 

And that was how that went. They ran for the proverbial hills and I was left to make some semblance of a life that made little sense without my friends. It was a strange moment of depressing clarity, to concede that all those times when I convinced myself that I was independent and strong had been fabricated half-truths. I was a mere shell of a girl, a person who had to start over just like my friends, but without the foundation of support they all had in one another. 

I regretted my decision an hour after the van departed. I drove recklessly down the Interstate, blasting maudlin music that articulated the emotions circulating through my veins, and I tried to find them. They had an hour start, but I was sure that I could catch up. Sheer will would propel me on at warped speeds until I stumbled upon their Mystery Machine with purple curtains and fixed things with everyone, joining them on the road to nowhere in particular. 

It didn't happen. They were somewhere far away and I was still in Roswell, being followed, working the same wretched job with Liz's parents glaring in my general direction-wondering why I didn't stop their daughter from leaving, why did she go and I stayed, why, why, why-and watching my mother and Jim Valenti fall madly in love. 

I tried to make a go of it, knowing that Liz had been right. Everyone wanted me to have that normal life that they were never going to have. I was their beacon of hope, but I felt so lost and confused. I would travel with my band on the weekends and check out the off-road bars, the seedy underworld of backwater towns, wondering if I would bump into them. I wanted to find Michael tending bar some place and locking eyes on me when I ordered a beer. I wanted to see Kyle fixing cars at the local garage when I stopped for gas in some town. 

Pretty soon it became a game to me. I created worlds for each of them, new identities where I tracked them down and simply said, "I've been looking for you." I felt my legs move faster when I saw a man with Michael's frame or Liz's hair. I passed vans on the road, speeding up next to the car and meeting the furtive expressions of random hippie drivers, never one of my friends. 

I started drawing sketches, imaging how they looked. Was Michael's hair short again? Had he grown a beard like I always told him he should? Had Liz decided to find out if blondes really did have more fun? 

I reached out to them in dreams, but never to any avail, not even a trip down memory lane. I drove myself crazy, teetering on the brink of insanity, until my stepfather stepped in and tried to set me on a different path. 

"Maria, you need to get out of here." 

"Are you kicking me out?" I asked, turning over on my back and staring up at the white ceiling that was slowly peeling in the corners. In a melodramatic mood, I could compare my life to the fraying walls and corroding paint of my home. 

He sat on the corner of my bed. I knew he felt uncomfortable acting as the patriarch to an already-grown girl who had lived too much and lost even more. He patted my leg, "You did the right thing." 

I sat up, "What?" 

"If we had lost all of you, if you went," his voice trailed off and I berated myself for how selfish I was. He had lost his son, the only family he had, and somehow he never broke down or let me see how much it pained him. He sighed, "It must be hard for you. You get to bear the brunt of this on your shoulders-the Evans, the Parkers, me, your mom-we all depend on you now. You're the link to the rest of them--and it's slowly killing you." 

I shrugged. I wanted to hug him, tell him that I understood his pain, but at the same time a voice in my head pointed out that he had my mother, _at least he had someone._ I felt a surge of misplaced anger, that he shouldn't be so damn histrionic about my present emotional status. I bit my lips as the words "I'm all alone" slipped out. There was no one in this town for me, no one that I could even imagine allowing close enough to become a friend. I was a step away from wearing all black and reading existential poetry, maybe doing myself in like Sylvia Plath had with the kitchen oven. 

"But that's not fair to you. I see that now. And you can't stay here, Maria." 

"So you _are_ kicking me out?" 

"No, I think-your grandparents-your mother talked to them and they want you to come stay with them, maybe take some college classes. It's out East and maybe that will make it easier for you." 

"I must be pretty bad off if my mother is talking to her parents," I muttered. 

"She's worried about you. We all are. You shouldn't have to deal with this. The others-they're in danger, but they've got protection, they've got each other to count on, someone watching their backs. You don't have that." 

"But I-I don't know what to do. What if they try to contact me?" I offered in vain. I knew that would never happen. My friends wouldn't put me in that kind of danger and I doubted they trusted me to be able to help them. I was never the brain or idea girl of our group, more like a lackey. Yet, for some reason, on those days when I got in my car and almost didn't come back, going off into the sunset to find a life of my own, I could never make it past the New Mexico border. A panic would swell in my chest and a nagging voice would scream, _what if he needs you? What if he comes for you and you're not here? _

I always turned around and when I drove up the familiar street of the town, I knew that I didn't have to worry about that. It was never going to happen. There was no Prince Charming or Michael, the slightly charming, coming to rescue me from my own self-inflicted misery. I'd holler at myself, punching the steering wheel and looking like a girl in the middle of a manic episode. 

"They won't, Maria. You know that," Valenti replied. He tried to smile, like he could fix everything with a half-grin that reminded me of Kyle, and added, "You can't spend your life waiting on them. You need to move on." 

"Right." 

"And I think going out east would be good for you. A change, a different world from out here." 

"But what about the henchmen? I still see them following me sometimes." 

Valenti shrugged. He pushed stray strawberry hairs off my face and said, "That will continue for awhile, especially since they'll probably think you're meeting up with the others, but I'm guessing when they see that you're a dead end, they'll go away. One day, you'll have your life back." 

I shook my head, determined not to cry, not to let the lingering after effects of his use of words, _dead end_, destroy me. There had been so many times that I had used those same words about Michael, so many times when I had managed to convince myself that loving him would lead nowhere fast. And I was right, but it was because of my own unraveling. I was one of those stupid girls, a stupid romantic comedy protagonist that didn't realize what she had until it was gone. I replied, "I'm not sure that I'll ever have my life back." 

"I don't buy that for a second. You're going to have friends and love in your life." 

_There has only been you. You're it, Maria. I won't love anyone else_, Michael had said before he drove off. 

"I'm glad one of us believes that," I replied to my stepfather. 

He patted my cheek, "We can't allow this to destroy us. They would want to know we were okay." 

"You make it sound like they're dead." 

He grimaced before replying, "Well, to keep them alive, we need to act like they are dead to us." 

It was surprising to see how little I planned to take with me. I found myself trying to forget everything, forget my friends, by simply leaving my room behind. I packed some clothes, purposefully forgetting my blue sweater that Michael said made my eyes sparkle and the Saturday night boots that Liz and I had bought in a particularly girly mood. I shoved my guitar into my trunk and a few random photographs, leftovers of a life I no longer wanted, or maybe wanted, but no longer had. 

I hugged my mother tightly, who kept stroking my hair and repeating that I needed to drive safely and stop when I got tired. "Boston is a long trip. Please be careful. Call if you need anything." 

"I will," I promised before pushing my sunglasses on my face and waving tentatively toward my house. I checked my side-view mirror, taking in the presence of government rent-a-thugs and started my car. I made it as far as the New Mexico border, stopping right in front of the "Thank You For Visiting New Mexico" sign. 

I hummed along to Matchbox Twenty and exited my car. I was never the type to do anything in a simple fashion. It wasn't in my nature. If I lost my keys, I didn't just lose my keys and mess up my own day. No, if I lost my keys, the world seemed to stop moving, with everything hinging on my one idiotic moment. The pressure of leaving this state behind me, driving a few more feet into Texas, filled me with such woe, such fear that I was ruining bigger plans, putting the people I loved in danger. 

Of course, my friends would have been the first to roll their eyes and tell me to get over myself. 

I sat on the side of the road, silently wishing my friends would drive by and find me. I envisioned it perfectlythe van wouldn't stop, barreling down the interstate when Liz noticed me on the side of the road. They would do a quick U-turn, never losing speed. The side door of the van would slide open and Michael would pull me inside, taking me with them on their next adventure. I chanted it to myself for minutes, convincing myself it was the plan, but after an hour of only passing trucks, I hopped into my car and started a journey of my own. 

_to be continued..._


	2. Part Two: Boston

**Part Two - Boston**

I am nothing, if not a series of contradictions. 

I knew it when I was sixteen and hooked up with Michael in the eraser closet at school, playing like I loathed him and wanted nothing to do with him. In fairness, I really didn't think I wanted anything to do with him, not on a daily basis anyway, not in that potential walks-me-to-class-holding-hands-and-saves-me-from-the-lunchline-Romeo manner. 

That was never Michael. 

That was what I always wanted. I wanted the Max, the romantic persona that swept a girl off her feet, the Fabio off a drugstore romance cover. 

Again, never Michael. 

I knew it when I was looking at Michael in the park that night, stars reflecting in his long hair-too long, having told him time after time to cut it _(being Michael he purposefully grew it even longer, the Jesus Alien Complex)_-and broke up with him. It was a strange, bemusing, agonizing moment. For once, I held all the cards in our relationship. For once, I was the one walking away. It was oddly comforting, but at the same time, all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around him. I wanted to stay where we were, hovering somewhere between the same 'ole, same 'ole and nowhere. 

I wanted Michael. 

I wanted him, but decided I couldn't be with him. 

That day he left, that stupid day when I wished I was five again, when "take back" was a valid option, he had said things. Things I had waited our entire tumultuous relationship to hear, things he only seemed brave enough to say when he was leaving me or thought he was leaving me, things that mirrored the emotions that I felt rising off me like steam on a blacktop. I wanted to scream, "I know. Me too. Me too." 

But I didn't. 

Because I was furious. I was ecstatic and elated. I was in heaven-I was in hell. I hated him at that moment. Through everything, through his destiny with Isabel and stupid Courtney, I had never hated him until that day. I was so mad, so, so mad that he could do that to me, that after all that time, I was back at square one with him-him making big proclamations and running away. 

Of course, I wanted to go with him. 

Of course, if the opportunity arose again, some sort of _Quantum Leap_ chance to fix things, I would go with him and my friends. I would swallow my lapse into logic, which never suited me anyway, and hop in the van with the rest of them. 

Of course, that wasn't going to happen and I had to stop thinking like that. I had to stop thinking about _him_. 

Michael would have been so pleased with the way he was affecting me. Had he been around, he would've smiled smugly and said something utterly annoying without missing a beat. 

_"You want me? Fucking, well come and find me. I'll be waitingwith a gun and a pack of sandwiches" _

Radiohead reverberated through my car as I drove down the interstate. I was somewhere in the middle, having survived a night at some cheap motel with scratchy sheets and thin walls-too thin even when blasting Jay Leno to spare me mental scarring. I was tired, the local radio was hinting at possible tornados, something I had no knowledge of aside from the movie, _Twister_, and a Radiohead song was prompting me to check my wallet and mentally calculate how long I could roam the country on two hundred dollars. 

_"You want me? Fucking, well come and find me. I'll be waitingwith a gun and a pack of sandwiches" _

If that wasn't a sign, I didn't know what was. Logically, one could say that I had purposefully picked a CD comprised of lyrics that dealt with finding someone in a bitter, non-committal way. But Liz was the logical one. Maria, dramatic. Liz, logical. We picked those roles when we were seven. 

I wondered if anyone missed me. I wondered if our separation was as arduous on them as it was on me, or if I was merely a reminder of a world they had left behind. An ephemeral being linked to a place that sent them running. 

I instinctively glanced out my rearview mirror and saw the plain brown sedan tailing me from a distance. It changed everything. There was no wayeven if I passed them on the road, even if I pulled over for gas and Michael was there, I wouldn't do anything. I would stay behind because that was the only way I knew how to protect any of them. 

And this went on for the next two days-me, meandering through the prairie and the mountains with my friends on my mind and unable to convince myself that a new life was even possible. Somehow keeping my car en route to Boston and not stopping at every small town, every outsider-friendly metropolis. 

I needed to look on the bright side. At the very least, I wouldn't be reminded of my friends with every turn I made in Boston. I wouldn't be stuck working in that blue uniform that never flattered my figure. I'd be free to discover a secret talent I never knew I had. 

Maybe. 

So I tried. I tried to be optimistic. That was what everyone wanted. I could feel it. Sometimes I swore I could feel him, urging me to do great things and start over. 

When I arrived in Boston, I awkwardly greeted my grandparents. I found them oddly soothing, considering how my mother made them sound like bloodsucking demon parents, and even allowed them to rope me into a couple of classes at the community college. I had a room with ugly pink curtains that looked out on a park, late at night the small pond mirrored the neon signs flashing in the sky. I had a job at a record store, one of those too-hip-to-pay-well places. 

Slowly, I started to find my groove, not necessarily a life because that word scared me. I feared the wrath of betrayal to my friends. I feared the pain of losing someone again. And this groove went day-by-day until one day I walked out onto the street and didn't see the familiar brown sedan. No henchmen, no further reminders. 

It was done. 

And, like the series of contradictions my life had always sustained, that was when it all started once again. 

That was the day that I saw Jesse coming off the train. He was in an Armani suit, obviously making a lot more money those days, and swinging his briefcase in time with a beat only he could hear. He hurried into a local coffeehouse where I had occasionally played my songs and I followed him. I saw him pull out a picture, a picture of Isabel and flash it in the night manager's face. 

I gasped and he spun around, obviously hoping I was Isabel and he would have some sort of reunion. I knew that feeling and smiled encouragingly. 

"Maria?" 

"Maria, are you hear to sign up for the next Open-Mike Night?" 

"Not this time, Dotty. I will take a large black coffee to go though," I said. I pushed my hair back and narrowed my gaze on Jesse, "Hey." 

"So they-are you looking for them too?" 

"What?" 

"I think they're here." 

I pulled him aside and asked, "Are you still being followed?" 

"No-one day it stopped and it worried me," Jesse replied. He sat down at an empty table and started fussing with packets of Sweet 'n Low, tearing them open and painting the table with the white grains. 

I took a seat across from him and shrugged, "Jim said that would mean that they realized we're dead ends." I still winced at the thought and Jesse followed suit. 

"The reason I'm scared is because they're here. They're here, Maria. Or they were here not that long ago." 

"You keep saying that, but-" 

"Someone broke into my house the other night." 

"That could've been anyone" 

"Someone who melted the locks?" 

"This could be a trap, Jesse. Why would they come here? Why come to Boston? Everyone knew you got the job here. It wouldn't be safe." 

"Or maybe it would be the safest place for them to be. Think about it," Jesse replied as he pulled out a file. It was filled with pictures of Isabel but computer-generated with different hair and eye coloring. He spread them out cautiously and said, "The people chasing them would think it was stupid to be here." 

"You're basing this conclusion on a logic that I don't think any of them possess, especially Michael, and he's loud. He wouldn't want them anywhere near you." 

"Have you heard anything from them?" 

"No," I said quietly. I tried to play off the pain with another shrug, "I didn't expect anything." 

"Isabel wrote me." 

"What? When?" 

"About four months ago, my mother got a letter and she forwarded it to me. The postage was from New York, but the details, the things she mentioned about my life, a life here in Boston, made me realize she had to be around. They were here at some point." 

The thought caused my stomach to flip. With their abilities to change their appearance, I wondered if I had walked right by Michael. Had I passed him on the street on my way to work? Had I walked right past him without an iota of recognition while one of the Feds following me around detected him immediately? The idea that I might not even know him anymore struck me like a bat to my skull. I hunched over, hugging myself protectively, and whispered, "But that doesn't mean they're still here." 

"What if the reason we lost our tails-what if they've been caught, Maria? What if they're waiting on us to locate them? What if they're waiting and we never come? Could you live with yourself if Michael died or Liz or Kyle--" he whispered. 

"I get it," I snapped. 

Dotty came over and put my coffee on the table. I pulled a few bucks out of my pocket and dropped it on the table. I stood up, forcing myself to forget bumping into Jesse and forget the adamancy in his tone when he suggested that the others were in trouble, that Michael was in trouble, well, in more trouble then they already were. I couldn't do this. I had never been the strong one. I was the girl that played strong, pseudo-bravery when she wanted to be included, but wasn't capable of carrying the fates of her friends' lives on her shoulders. 

I studied Jesse, trying to silently speculate to his level of sanity, hoping that maybe he was simply missing Isabel like I missed Michael, like it was so intense at times that something had to be done, no matter how ill-conceived it was. I appraised his disheveled hair, stubble on his chin, and bags under his eyes. I sighed when I felt my body betray me and sit back down. I grabbed a sugar packet from his hands, dumped into my coffee, and drank it down without stirring it. 

"So, even if you're right-let's say that the group of them came here. They decided that Boston was such an obvious place to be that they figured they were safe. Where do we start? You didn't have much introduction into the world of the Czechoslovakians-" 

"What?" 

I waved him off, "What I used to call themanyway, my point was that we have no idea where to start. FBI agents and private detectives hired by the Evans had no luck, so what makes you think that you and I could do this? I never even won a game of Clue and you want me to play bounty hunter?" 

"The difference is that we can feel them," Jesse replied sternly. He leaned across the table, "Tell me you can't. Tell me that there aren't times when you think Michael has invaded your head and is trying to tell you something. Tell me that up until a few days ago you knew in your gut that they were okay. And tell me that those feelings haven't abruptly disappeared in the past forty-eight hours." 

I took another sip of my coffee. My head was pounding like it was a balloon stuck in a windstorm, thoughts fizzling out with a slow hiss, and about to pop at the slightest touch. I mimicked Jesse's stance, leaning in until our heads were practically skimming one another, and replied, "I don't know. I figured I was imagining things, Jesse. I've spent the past eighteen months holding on to them like they were some damn security blanket! I thought that I was finally letting go, getting some closure, accepting that my life was separate from theirs." 

Jesse stared at me for a minute. I realized that if he were Michael I would've known what he was thinking. Michael tried to preserve the notion that he was an unreadable force to be reckoned with, but I always knew what he was thinking. Every line on his face, every half smile, every blink of the eye, told me what was running through his head. 

I wondered if Jesse was thinking the same thing about Isabel as I watched him stop staring at me and begin to gather up his files. He stuffed them into his briefcase and stood up. He extended his hand and shook mine firmly before making his way to the door. 

I called out, "Jesse." 

"I'm not giving up. I shouldn't-I shouldn't have let her go without me, but I did. Now I have to make it right." 

"Maybe you did the right thing." 

He rolled his eyes, "Does that help you sleep at night, Maria? Knowing Michael is out there somewhere, possibly hurt, but it's okay because you did the right thing?" 

My fist shook with a fury that my mind hadn't processed yet. I stormed over to him and snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are? I'm trying to save you more agony, Jesse. You had little to no dealings with any of the," I lowered my voice and whispered, "Czechoslovakian situations that arose. You wouldn't even know where to start." 

"Maybe that's why I found you." 

I groaned, "Technically _I _found _you_." 

"Fine, maybe you found me because we're supposed to find them. You're right. I doubt I could do this alone, Maria, and I know you hardly know me, but trust me. Trust that I really do love Isabel and I want her safe. Trust that I know that my gut is telling me something's not right." 

"That's an awful lot of trust." 

Jesse placed his hands on my shoulders. He stared at me, probably willing me to aid his pathetic plight, and said, "We could do this. You've got the experience and I've got the brains-" 

"Are you insinuating I have no brains?" I quipped. 

"That didn't come out right." 

"I thought lawyers had a firm grasp on persuasive speaking. I'm pretty sure that they wouldn't want you to insult the jury members you were trying to sway." 

"That's not what I meant." 

"I know," I replied. I felt my hands tightening to the point that the blood stopped flowing to my fingers. I took a deep breath, trying to let it sink in, and added, "and fine." 

"Fine?" 

"I'll help you," I said, immediately regretting it and glancing over my shoulder. I expected to see my federal entourage back in all its glory, waiting for me to lead them right to the people I loved most in the world. 

"Are you sure?" 

I shook my head no, but replied, "Yes." I tossed my unfinished coffee into the trash receptacle and opened up the door. I walked out into the remnants of the day, with Jesse falling in pace by my side, and said, "We need some sort of plan. We can't go at this all willy-nilly." 

"I wasn't planning to. I've got an idea." 

"Okay" 

"What are you doing tonight? Feel up to a trip to New York?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. He hurried up the steps to the train and I had no choice but to follow him. Again, I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly paranoid and fearful, and silently prayed that everyone was okay. I mentally willed them to wait for us, to hang on however long it took, and for good measure, I blasted them for dragging me into this once again. 

_to be continued..._


	3. Part Three: New York

**Part Three - New York City**

I once told Michael I would follow him anywhere. 

It was one of those heat-of-the-moment-tangled-in-each-others-arms things that slipped out without warning or permission. I tried to ignore it, to act like I didn't say that-cool Maria and cool Michael didn't say things like that to one another. We hovered around the big stuff. After all, what were words anyway? Anyone could enunciate syllables or exchange longing glances across a room. Max and Liz? They were a dime a dozen thing, movie material, fodder for pop singers. 

Michael and I had both grown up having words flung at us, vocabulary was a weapon for people to hurt us, a way to be abandoned and left behind all over again. We didn't use words. We didn't talk about things like that. We let most things go unsaid. We agreed it was better that way without ever discussing it-just one of those things you know about the significant person in your life like "don't eat the last pop tart" and "never talk during a Bruce Springsteen song." 

But I had said it. 

"I would follow you anywhere, Michael," I whispered, hiding beneath his sheets and trying to avoid his steely gaze. He was shocked, I could tell. His breaths had rapidly fired out of his nostrils and the hairs on his arms were sticking up, like he was on alert, like basic instinct had kicked in. 

"I would never let you do that, Maria," he had replied after what felt like hours of agonizing silence. He kissed the top of my head, brushing his thumb over my eyelids-a trademark move that liquefied my insides and he knew it-and lifted himself out of bed. 

We never spoke of it again. 

Even that day when a choice had to be made. When _I _had to make a choice and that never-quite-forgotten moment in time ran through my head like a bad flashback montage from a John Hughes movie. When I decided not to follow him, not to provide him with the chance to say, "don't do that, Maria," I had my eyes locked on him. He didn't meet my gaze, looking at his boots, fiddling with his pockets, his eyes anywhere but near mine. He was already far away and I wondered if he was remembering that day too, praying I didn't come. 

God, things were simple that day. Michael's bedroom. Sunlight filtering in, landing on my skin and creating dancing shadows on the walls. Michael with his arms around me, smelling like Snapple and the generic soap from the store, and it felt like one of those mornings where you could lie there, congruent with the peaceful quiet and your soulmate, and be content for the rest of your life. 

It was rarely so simple with him, considering the circumstances and constant air of danger, and I think that's why it felt natural to say that. Because deep down I wanted that. I wanted to follow him, to be a couple with him. In that flickering nanosecond, I had thought, I could do ordinary with this man. I could be the PTA mom and Michael could be the Little League dad-if Little League dads put Tabasco Sauce in chocolate milk and PTA moms constantly looked over their shoulder for the next catastrophe trying to harm her husband. 

God, what was I thinking? I would follow him? 

Of course, it was true. 

But he didn't want me to follow him, so I stayed. 

And here I was, in some dive motel that rented by the hour, looking for clues that would lead me right back to where I started. A therapist could have a field day with my broken psyche. I was a wailing chick song waiting to happen and it was only going to end badly. Feelings in the gut never lied, right? 

"Maria, look at this," Jesse said for the fifteenth time since the creepy desk attendant had allowed us in the room for an easy fifty and a quick grope of my ass. He pushed a dust-covered bureau away from the wall, sending clouds of mites into the air, settling in my hair and lungs. 

I coughed, waving the debris away from my face, and said, "Jesse, are you sure we should be moving things around?" 

"They were here." 

It was like his mantra. The past two days he had repeated it hundreds of times, mostly for my benefit, and I wanted to melt him with my eyes for it. If I had a nickel for every time he had uttered those words, I could've retired and escaped this crap for a pampered existence on the Mediterranean. He was infuriating me with his positive attitude; a simple reassurance as I drove us down the highway had slowly become unbearable. 

I never noticed how long the interstate was-how slowly three hours between Boston and New York could feel-until I had to drive south while Jesse created our "plan of attack." I watched him out of the corner of my eye, the doubt in his own eyes masked by the night sky, and nodded when I thought I should, mustering faith that I wasn't sure I possessed. 

The road was long and dark, a deserted island of pavement during the vast hours of the night, and I noticed how we both turned to look into the windows of random vans that we passed. 

Some things would never change. 

I hummed to the radio as Jesse babbled on about their last location, about how New York was the key. We would find them. _We'll find them, Maria. We'll find them._

I couldn't help but think, "What if they don't want to be found?" I didn't say that though. I smiled and said, "I know. But I'm not sure redecorating this dump-" 

"I feel something," Jesse said, extending his arm further behind the wall. I moved over, trying to help him push the bureau aside, and he repeated, "There is something back here." 

"It's probably a dead rat. It would explain the smell," I commented. 

Jesse glared at me, an all too familiar "Maria, you aren't helping the situation" look, as he grunted, reaching a bit further, before finally pulling out a long envelope filled with cash. Jesse examined it and said, "Someone left in a hurry if they forgot this." He tossed the envelope of cash into the air for effect, something out of a cop drama from the seventies. 

"We don't even know that it was theirs, Jesse. Have you seen this place? You could be interfering with a drug pick-up," I replied. My gut was aching, like all this investigation was bad for the stomach lining, and I added, "We should keep looking and not jump to conclusions." 

"The guy at the market down the street said that Max had inquired about a job and that he used to see him and his friends walking around," he stated like I hadn't been there. 

At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to find Michael. If for no other reason, then to point at Jesse and scream, "He's fucking crazy. How does Isabel put up with him?" Even though I knew love made people tolerate things that they wouldn't normally be able to. Look at Michael. 

God, what I wouldn't give to look at Michael again. 

"I know," I replied. I studied the small place. I focused on the bed, trying to imagine Michael lying there, Max staring out the window-always preoccupied with what was coming rather than what was happening at the moment-while Liz sat on the floor by Max, always by Max. 

In the midst of my imagining, my eye caught on a glowing tint beside the night table. The phone had been positioned carefully to hide it. Had I not seen the glow before, had my eyes not memorized the strange silvery hue on Liz's stomach, it would have remained undisturbed. 

I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind tricking me and filling me with Michael's comforting aroma, and I pushed the phone aside. Sure enough, there it was. The entire wall behind the table had been altered. I pushed the table aside and knocked on the wall, listening for a hallow echo that would tell me if this was a hiding spot. I motioned to Jesse and said, "There's something back there." 

He was the one to look skeptical now, "What?" 

"Isabel, Michael, or Max was here," I paused and traced the coloring on the wall, "No one else could do this. One of them must have blasted through the wall and put something in here before fixing the wall. But why? Why put something in there unless you're planning to come back for it?" 

"Unless they had to leave in a hurry and didn't get a chance to return." 

"No, if it was important enough to put in here" 

My voice trailed off when footsteps from the stairwell became louder and louder, traveling toward us. Someone was coming this way. Jesse quickly crossed the room to stand next to me and we both noticed the doorknob turning. He pointed to the bathroom, pushing me into the room before him, and I quickly ducked for cover. A rush of adrenaline hit me, wondering if this was it, the reunion I wasn't sure I could stand to have, thinking that Michael had returned for whatever was in that wall. 

The thought passed as I heard two unfamiliar voices arguing in hushed tones and immediately knew that wasn't one of my friends. 

"Two down, three to go," a voice stated. My eyes fixed on the envelope of cash in Jesse's back pocket and I prayed that we weren't about to get killed for stealing a drug lord's stipends. 

"The key has to be here somewhere. The girl was holding on to it that day in the park, but it wasn't on her when we cornered her." 

"She could've given it to one of the others, Marty." 

"I don't think so. It seems to have attracted other problems for the kids. I don't think they would keep it around them. Might not be too smart." 

"Well, start looking then." 

Jesse kept his ear against the door. I groaned. This was not how I pictured my life ending, in a dirty bathroom in China Town with Jesse. I pulled at the window, swearing when it opened a crack before sticking. I put all my energy into raising it, noticing the ladder within reach, but the window wouldn't budge. The ransacking was getting louder and it was only a matter of minutes before the two men searched the bathroom. I grabbed the back of Jesse's shirt and pointed to the window. I whispered, "We need to get out of here." 

"They've got one of them." 

"Well, they're going to catch us if we don't get out of here, Jesse. We can't risk it." 

"We need to find what those guys are looking for first, Maria." 

"Trust me. They won't find it, but they _will _find us. What do you think they're gonna do to us? They'll either kill us or use us as bait. Do you want to be responsible for getting Isabel captured?" I replied, trying to keep my voice from raising and alerting the men to our presence. 

It seemed to snap Jesse out of whatever funk he was in. He moved me aside and tried to lift the window. He managed to get it up enough for me to slide through. I stepped out on to the fire escape, throwing my bag over my shoulders. Jesse tossed me the money and said, "I'm not going to fit." 

I groaned and glanced down. I tried to mentally calculate how quickly the two of us could climb down two flights on a ladder. I tried in futility to get the window to open more. I noticed the two men through the main window and said, "Step back, Jesse." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm breaking the window so you can slide out." 

"No. Maria" 

He had no training in Stubborn Maria 101 and I said, "I'm not leaving you here." 

"Fine. Get on the ladder. Start down. One of us needs to have both legs working," he ordered. I didn't argue, there was no time, and started down the ladder. I watched as he backed up and kicked the glass out and hurried out on to the fire escape. 

I saw the two men rushing to the bathroom and hollered, "Jump Jesse. You've gotta jump." 

He did, landing perfectly on filled trash bags as one of the men stepped out on to the fire escape. I wanted to stop and applaud him, recommending a job on a movie set as a stunt double, but there wasn't enough time. Jesse jumped to his feet, considering our best route while I stared down one of the thugs. Creepy looking man, a scar above his left eye, and a familiar silhouette, but I didn't recognize him. 

Jesse took my hand and we ran around the corner. We knew we couldn't stay here, but we weren't sure where to go. He led me down the alley, pushing on back doors to cafés and small stores that lined the block. Finally, on the last try, the door opened and the two of us rushed in. 

We found ourselves in a salon surrounded by curious gazes from customers and angry looks from the employees. I smiled and apologized, "Sorry, we thought that was an entrance." We walked at a quick pace toward the front of the store, trying not to draw further attention to ourselves. Jesse peeked out the window while I tried to act as inconspicuous as possible. 

He waved to me, "I think it's safe." 

"Okay." 

I stepped outside and started to walk down the street, blending in with the people getting off work. Jesse fell in step beside me and said, "That was close." 

"There's something not right about this, Jesse." 

"We need to get back into that hotel room. Go back later." 

"We're not going to be able to get back in there. Those guys will be waiting for us and shitwhat if we'vewhat if one of our friends was supposed to go back for this key thing?" 

"You think?" 

I made my way down the steps of the subway. One of our plans had been to use the traffic and population of the city in our favor. Whenever things got too hairy, although up until that point it had just been our paranoia, we disappeared on to crowded streets or subway trains. I slipped a token into the machine and walked to the train platform. 

Jesse came up behind me and said, "Then we need to stake the place out." 

"No. This is wrong. We're causing more problems, Jesse." 

"Are you giving up?" 

"I don't know. If they wanted us to find them, if they were in real danger and needed our help, they would've gotten in contact with one of us." 

"How?" 

"What?" I replied over the rattling of a subway train into the boarding area. The doors slid open and groups of people exited before more people, including myself, could replace them. I took a seat in the corner, staring out the window for any sign of men in suits or the creepy guy with the scar. 

"Maria, no one knew you were coming to Boston. Even if they did, did you think they could call you and say help? They couldn't risk it." 

"Exactly! They can't risk it, Jesse. I don't-" 

"Two of them have been caught. The guy said they caught two of them. He mentioned a she. That means it's either Isabel or Liz." 

I knew what he was doing and fuck if it wasn't working. I had never been a girl that was popular or made hundreds of friends. It wasn't my style and my heart wasn't strong enough for that. But those few friends I had, those people I let in, had my undying devotion. I would protect them the best ways I knew how and if they were in danger, I would become the ferocious mama bear. 

I had always expected that to be metaphorically though. I never thought I would find myself contemplating Liz's eminent demise and trying to figure out if I should even bother to get involved. 

"I am involved, Michael. Whether you like it or not. I'm involved in this now," I had once said to him. Funny how I couldn't remember that when they were departing. 

"Maria," Jesse said, forcing me out of my memories. 

"I don't even know what I'm doing here. I don't," I replied to a question he didn't ask. I felt the hot bubbling of tears about to escape and bit my lip, "We may have made things a hundred times worse for them, Jesse. What if we're doing all of this out of misplaced guilt for not going with them? What if our stupid machinations get them killed?" 

"I'm not giving up. Something isn't right here. Those weren't federal agents. Trust me. I've grown accustomed to the looks of the men that followed me around and those two men weren't working for the government. I need to know what else was going on before they left, Maria. Was anyone else after them?" 

I laughed bitterly, "If it wasn't one thing, it was another, Jesse." 

"We won't know exactly what we're dealing with until we get whatever is hidden in that wall." 

"How do you plan to do that? What superpowers do you possess that I don't know about? Can you make yourself invisible? Otherwise, we're screwed." 

Jesse stood up as the subway slowed down for a stop. He extended his hand to me. I knew I only had a brief second to think. If I didn't take his hand, he was going to do this alone. And I couldn't let him do that. If he got himself killed, it would be on my conscience. If I let down one more friend, I would have to commit myself because it would drive me insane. Besides, I imagined Isabel invading my dreams night after night until I blew my brains out if something happened to Jesse. 

I stood up slowly and groaned, "Oh, we're both so stupid." 

"Maria, I need you to think like Michael." 

I laughed mirthlessly as I hopped off the train. I folded my arms and said, "Nobody else in this universe thinks like Michael. Just when you think you can figure him out, he does something completely different to further confuse you." 

"But you knew him better than anyone." 

I shrugged, "Jesse, we need a better plan than thinking like Michael. We're screwed if that's the best you got." 

Jesse stopped me from walking back out on to the street; the two of us huddled in the corner of one of the subway walkways. He said, "You need to tell me everything you know. We need to know what other enemies we could be facing here. Then we can come up with a strategy-" 

"Like hell you can," a muffled voice said. 

I felt an arm go around my waist, pulling me away from passing pedestrians. Strangely enough, I wasn't scared as much as surprised. Jesse, however, grabbed my hand and tried to pull me back. I yelped in pain and the set of arms from behind me quickly released themselves from around me. 

Jesse lunged at the shadow and knocked him to the ground. Jesse hovered over the body, cloaked in heavy clothing-too heavy for the time of year-and a ski mask. I leaned down and as I was about to remove the mask, the muffled voice said, "Don't do that, Maria." 

My mouth dropped open. Thoughts running through so quickly that there was no way to process any of them, like in a dream where images pass at such speed that it's rare to remember anything. The voice repeated, "Don't touch the mask." 

Jesse looked ready to attack and I raised my hand, "Don't." 

"Maria," Jesse began. 

"It's Kyle," I said. 

"Kyle?" Jesse replied, his voice rising about ten octaves, drawing strange looks from passersby. 

"Say it a little louder, Jesse. I don't think my father heard you back in New Mexico," Kyle said, his voice becoming much stronger and familiar as he stood himself up. He rubbed his shoulder and said, "Jesus, you pack a punch." 

"I thought Maria was in trouble." 

Kyle nodded and I said, "Can you take that ridiculous mask off? I feel stupid talking to you like this." 

"You shouldn't even be talking to me. What the hell are you doing here? Michael is going to flip out when he sees you," Kyle paused. He removed the mask, revealing a head full of long brown curls. I smiled, stifling the chortle in my throat, and he added, "Go on and laugh. Like my life isn't sad enough already." 

I hugged him to me. I had known all along how much I missed Michael and Liz, there was a void that could never be replaced while the two of them were gone, but with Kyle and probably the others it was much more subtle. I didn't realize how much I had missed him until I saw his goofy smile, which no amount of physical alteration could change. 

He rubbed my back for a minute before pulling back. He stared at Jesse and finally said, "I guess you got the letter Isabel sent you. I was afraid it would send you off on a mission, but she wanted to do it. And once she makes up her mind-well, you know how she is." 

"Is she alright?" 

Kyle's eyes wandered around, "Not here. We can't talk here." 

"Kyle, I need to know," Jesse insisted. 

I took Jesse's hand, an action I wasn't quite comfortable with yet, but it somehow seemed the right thing to do. The look on Kyle's face didn't bode well and the last thing anyone needed was for Jesse to go off on some sort of vengeance crusade. 

Kyle motioned to a set of subway rails along a parallel tunnel. He said, "It's an unused service line at the moment. It leads to a fairly decent area that I've been hiding out in. Once we're there, we can talk. It's not safe out in the open like this." 

"Are the others there?" I asked, following him down into the darkness, using the white from his socks as a guide. 

"We had to split up. There's a lot going on. We're not even sure of half of it," Kyle said, his tone telling me not to ask any more questions. 

It was about a fifteen-minute hike. I was beginning to realize the Catch-22 of time. Even the smallest intervals could seem like an eternity, dragging on for ages, never ending moments. It was never like that when I wanted it to be. When I wanted time to stop, to halt while I caught my breath and appreciated the great things, it slipped by that much faster. 

When we were finally there, Kyle removed the long jacket and fell on a makeshift mattress that had springs popping out of the corners. He patted his hand on the ground and lifted a cigarette to his mouth. 

The only thing I could think to say was, "When did you start smoking?" 

"I heard smoking reduces stress. So far, it's not working like I had hoped." 

"The others, Kyle. Where are they?" Jesse said, getting straight to the point. 

"Liz and Isabel disappeared. We were planning to get out of New York within the next few days. Max had a bad feeling. He said he thought it was time to move on, but we decided to give it another few days. Get as much cash together as we could. Everything was fine that morning when we left, but when they didn't get home that night, we got worried. No one was ever late. We had an arrangement. We had a routine. We didn't stray from it." 

"And Liz and Isabel did?" I asked. The ache in my stomach was getting stronger, like a spoon was being driven through my organs in a methodic manner. The air around me seemed to get warmer and I fought the urge to scream at the unfairness of this whole mess. We were too young for this, way too young for this crap, and being separated from one another. 

"We asked around a bit, but we can't draw attention to ourselves," Kyle replied. 

"So you have no idea where they are?" I questioned, trying to make sense of it. I don't know what I was thinking-a few episodes of _Scooby Doo_ did not a crime solver make. Kyle shrugged, sucking on the tip of his cigarette. I fanned the smoke away from my face and continued, "What about Michael and Max? They just left you?" 

"No, I told you. We split up. We were waiting a few days for things to cool down." 

"Waiting for wait? Were you planning to leave Isabel and Liz behind?" Jesse replied. 

"Jesse-" 

"I want to know. Where the hell is my wife?" 

"We don't know!" Kyle snapped. He rubbed his forehead, pushing on the pressure points, and added, "This doesn't have a government feel to it. We've had some close calls before and the government swarms. It hasn't happened here. This is different." 

"They want the key," I said, remembering the conversation the men had in the motel. 

Kyle stared at me, "How did you know about the key?" 

"The men. We were at your motel. These two men chased us out, but we overheard them talking about a key. They needed to find it," I replied. 

"They also said that it attracted other problems," Jesse added. 

Kyle shrugged again, "A few months ago, we ran into Lonnie. She wasn't doing too well, something had happened, something that scared the hell out of her. Maria, you knew how insane she was. We knew it must've been bad for her to be terrified. Anyway, she gave Max a key and mentioned something about it being our only protection when the others came. None of us wanted to take the key with us, but we weren't sure we could afford to leave it behind." 

"And Isabel had this key?" 

"Lonnie gave it to her. I guess since they are, well, you know," Kyle said to me. I noticed the confused look on Jesse's face, but there was no time to explain. Kyle flicked his cigarette into the air before stomping it out on the ground. He added, "So you think these two men might know where Liz and Isabel are?" 

It was my turn to shrug. "They want the key," I replied. I sat down next to him, wrapping my arm around his. I looked at him, trying to make sure this wasn't some ploy or a dream, trying to prepare myself for the idea that I might actually see Michael again. 

I scolded myself immediately. There was no time for thinking like that. There was work to be done, friends to be rescued, keys to bewell, whatever had to be done. I continued talking, "There _is _a slight problem." 

"Aside from your sudden appearance?" Kyle asked. He met my dubious glare and said, "Don't look at me like that. It's not that you're not a sight for sore eyes, but if the two of you could find us-we're not exactly doing too well at this incognito thing." 

"I don't know if I should be offended by that," I replied. 

"The two men are probably guarding your motel room. That's where they found us. We don't think they found the key, but Maria and I weren't sure how to get back into the building without either of them spotting us," Jesse explained. He kicked at the garbage littering the floor and added, "There has to be some way though. When are you meeting with the others?" 

"Tonight." 

"We're coming with you," Jesse stated. 

"I don't know-if either of them see you, they might-" 

"We're coming," I replied. 

"It's too dangerous, Maria. You left this life behind for a reason." 

I folded my arms and said, "I don't take orders from you. I definitely don't take orders from Michael, so deal with the fact that I'm coming. If Liz is in trouble, I plan to help. I want to make sure I leave all of you alive and in one piece." 

Kyle sighed, "Fine. We're meeting at Sal's Pizzeria at nine pm." 

I glanced at my watch and exchanged looks with Jesse. Three hours. Three more hours until I laid eyes on Michael again. I felt my stomach somersault and I was deluged with possibilities. 

Again, my words rang in my ears. "I would follow you anywhere, Michael." 

I would. And I did. 

_to be continued..._


	4. Part Four: Sal's Pizzeria

**Part Four - Sal's Pizzeria**

Michael once asked me what it was about music that I loved so much. It was early morning and he had just gotten off work. It had the makings of a typical New Mexico day-the air was warm and there was no wind, minus the occasional fan-like swing of warmth. The sky was clear, a bleached blue that looked like a shirt my mother accidentally ruined in the wash, and the sun hung there, unchallenged as it expunged the remnants of night from view. 

Michael did his usual grunt when he opened the door, kissing me quickly on the cheek, and resuming his domination of the toaster. His uniform shirt was unbuttoned and he stood in front of the small kitchen window, a portrait of cheap K-Mart shades reflecting on him. He smiled at me, the rare shit-eating grin that he usually saved for when he had won an argument _(a rare occurrence although if you asked him, the number would be highly inflated),_ and pulled me closer to him. 

It was so un-Michael, so different from his normal romantically challenged behavior, that for a minute I was scared that something had happened, or that another alien had inhabited his body. And, as if reading my mind, he abruptly stepped away, focused his attention on a moth darting around the ceiling fan, and asked about my night. 

After explaining how I had locked myself up to write a new song, a triumph considering the slump I'd been suffering through, he had asked, "Maria, are you sure about music? How do you know that it's what you want? Are you sure it's a relationship worth having?" 

I got the feeling he was talking more metaphoric than anything, but I ignored the subtext and went straight to the point. "It makes me happy," I had answered simply. 

At the time, it was true. Nothing elated or provided me with more intense emotion than music, not even Michael. With the right ambiance, I could feel the words before they filtered out of my fingers. I channeled the legends at times, plucking strings with no real understanding of how it happened. It just did. There was something inside of me-magnetic force or gravity at work-that reacted to a catchy harmony and funky beat. 

Michael's gaze had remained stoic, what he referred to as his "contemplative stance" but oddly resembled what I had coined as his "rat bastard brooding look." He sighed, sucking up the air between us, and said, "But how do you know there isn't something better for you out there? What if music is keeping you from finding what you really want?" 

"But I won't know that if I don't see it through," I had replied before turning and walking out of his place. I didn't want to deal with something so deep, such philosophical questions, at seven in the morning on a school day. There was something about soul-searching before Biology class that made me sick to my stomach. 

I thought a lot about that conversation after they left. I berated myself for not doing a better job of explaining it, of making sense of the things that moved me most like music and Michael. He had been fishing that morning, looking for some sort of reassurance that we weren't as fleeting as his numerous foster families or my father's presence in my life. He had looked to me for answers-_me_, not Max or Isabel, but me, something of a first-and I had denied him access to the truth. 

My mother would excuse it as being seventeen and just figuring things out, but that was a cop out. It wasn't true. I knew what I felt. If witchcraft were real, I would think someone had put a spell on me, something that made me crazy, pulled me in every direction, churned my insides around, caused nerve-endings to fire so fast that it practically melted my skin off and exposed everything about me. One minute it was like I had sucked the helium out of a dozen balloons and everything was blurry and floaty and I was high on life, giggling and enjoying the moment. 

"Enjoy the moment, Maria. Enjoy the moment." 

A mantra to live by, a meditation I uttered to myself when I worried that Michael was going to leave me behind. I would try to prepare myself with practice sessions, like forcing myself to go two whole days without even calling him. I would imagine that he had disappeared and I was forced to make a go of things on my own. God, if twenty-four hours didn't seem like a lifetime to me. Like so much had changed since the last time I saw him, like I wouldn't recognize him when we were reunited, and I would break my own plans for a Michael-free record and show up at his door. 

Forty-eight hours was my record-even when we weren't technically together-until the stupid FBI showed up and ruined everything. 

Michael didn't seem to notice most of the time. He blew it off as a "you know Maria's crazy" thing, and when I finally appeared at his door, he was in the same place I left him, glued to the fucking television and oblivious to our separation. I would sit down next to him, drilling my eyes into his skull and waiting for a reaction, and he would say, "What did I do now?" 

I shrugged. I always shrugged, afraid to explain to him what was going on or to make it anymore apparent that I was too attached to him. I was Saran Wrap, one of those cheerleaders at school that made her whole life about dating the captain of the basketball team. I wasn't about to admit that to Michael. It would shift the dynamic in our relationship; it would make me more pathetic than I already felt most of the time. So I shrugged because he wasn't allowed to know that he was, in essence, my whole life. 

And thank god for music. Thank god for that momentary lapse into something non-Michael, even though he consumed that at times as well. Without music, I was sure that the only place I belonged was in a bathtub with blood dripping out of my wrists. Music was my refuge because I knew I couldn't let Michael be that for me. 

I always knew that he was going to leave one day. I knew it when we first kissed in that cheap motel room with a lingering bug spray odor swirling in the air. I knew it when he saw me eating lunch with Brody and shot a this-is-for-the-best scowl in my direction on his way to relieve Carlos before the evening rush at the Crashdown. I even knew it when he seemed so hell-bent on making a go of our relationship like he was ready to be domesticated, as if either of us was equipped for the long haul and able to deny who he was. 

I think subconsciously we both knew that our relationship was going to be short-lived. Neither of us was quite as naïve as Max and Liz. We weren't re-enacting _Romeo and Juliet_ with the pining and desperate looks across crowded rooms. Michael and I accepted certain things. Love might move mountains, but it didn't prevent an avalanche of snow from destroying everything on the mountain around you, leaving nothing unscathed in its path. 

Leaving 

I hated that I left him. Technically, he and the others did the leaving, but I was the first to step away. I announced I couldn't go, making some absurd statement about a life in Roswell. I pivoted in the dirt, clouds of dust trailing the air and forming a wall between Michael and myself. I ignored the simultaneous thumping in my head and gut, and tried not to notice how my feet didn't want to move away from the van, how they simply refused to inch away. I disregarded my instincts for prudence and I was sure that it robbed me of any rights to misery. No mourning entitlements granted to those with choices, with options, but that was all I felt sometimes. Fucking miserable. 

I tried to lose myself in my music. It worked for a while, calming my nerves and providing me with something to do. I formed a band, playing small gigs and always talking big, and put all my attention on that. Every song was about Michael. Every note came out half-wrong, like I wasn't completely there, like both my creativity and voice knew I belonged elsewhere. Every melody evoked a depressed longing. Every lyric was tainted with his personality until it became unbearable and I teetered with giving it up permanently. 

I had been on my way to the coffee shop to tell Dotty that I wouldn't be performing anymore, to stop calling me when slots opened up, to no longer fill my head with ego inflating "you're amazing" compliments. I had rehearsed a speech about finding more in life, rediscovering a passion that wasn't linked to my past, _etc, etc, etc. _

Of course, Jesse's appearance had thwarted those plans and as I sat in the small pizzeria, the smell of a grease fire coalescing with dough baking in the oven thickening the air, I wanted to throw my diet coke in his face for getting me involved in this. I wanted to lean across the table and smack him in soap opera fashion for bringing Michael back to me. At the same time, I wanted to kiss him-in that brotherly way, not the Michael way because _yuck_-for giving me an opportunity to fix everything. The chance to finally offer Michael those reassurances he had been looking for so long ago. 

Instead of either of those things, I sucked on my straw, swallowing large gulps of soda in the hopes that it would magically calm me down, and observed every movement in the place. I was ready to leap up at any second or hide under the booth, depending on which struck my fancy when the time arose. 

Kyle had insisted on preparing Michael and Max, alerting them to our presence rather than enjoying a _Jerry Springer_ "surprise" situation. He swore on Buddha that he would not ditch us. When neither Jesse nor myself was convinced by his less-than-believable oath, we pointed out that we knew where the key was and not to force our hand. That seemed to do the trick and we both felt confident-mixed with an extreme case of anxiety-that Kyle would not disappear. 

I watched Jesse fiddle with the salt and peppershakers, moving them around, then back again, and then once again moving them around the faux-wooden tabletop. It went on for minutes, sometimes adding the sugar packets to the mix to make _Portrait of Idiotic Man With Missing Alien Wife _or something equally as ridiculous and annoying. 

I grabbed the oregano before it could be victimized by Jesse's hands and said, "You need to get a grip. It's Max and Michael we're waiting for." 

Jesse rolled his eyes and said, "Like you're not nervous." 

"I'm not," I lied, more for my benefit than his. Jesse could think what he wanted about me. I barely knew the guy. We were two practically-strangers that had been thrown together due to a situation out of our control. We were tolerating each other-okay, I found myself semi-enjoying the non-loner lifestyle-for the greater purpose here. 

"Liar." 

I shrugged, "Whatever." 

"You're going to freak out when Michael comes in here." 

I folded my arms and replied, "No, I'm not. I'm always cool and collected." 

"Right." 

"Michael's presence won't do anything to me. You're forgetting that I dealt with him on a daily basis for nearly three years," I added. 

"And from what I saw, the two of you were nothing if not calm," Jesse commented dryly. 

"I was once nicknamed Maria the Composed." 

"Maria the Great was taken, huh?" he quipped. 

I lifted my straw out of my drink and pointed at him, spraying him with soda, "I don't know where this sudden level of comfort between us came from, but I wish it would go away. I liked you when you weren't so insolent." 

"I was merely asking a question." 

"Fine, _Jesse the Jackass_," I countered. 

Jesse grinned. It was the first time I had seen a real smile from him. We had placated one another's nerves at times with weak upward turns of the lips, but there had never been an appropriate time for radiating happiness. He took a sip of his own drink and said, "Ten bucks says you faint." 

"You're an annoyance." 

"You wouldn't be the first person to tell me something like that, Maria," he answered. 

I stared at him and joked, "Is that how you got Isabel to marry you? Exasperated her until she succumbed to your proposal?" 

He chuckled inwardly, allowing his shoulders to shake, and said, "It's a shame that we didn't become friends before all this happened." 

I nodded, unsure of how to respond. The truth was I hadn't considered Jesse a friend as much as an accomplice on our mission. We had the makings of a friendship, but so far we really hadn't talked much about ourselves, only concentrating on the others-if they were safe, if they needed help, if we would find them. 

My stomach immediately dropped to my feet when I saw Kyle stand up. He nervously glanced in our direction, as if he was a government informant worried about the mob boss discovering his wire, and motioned to a table by the door. Kyle had explained that quick exits were always important for them and I couldn't help but think that he was trying to prepare me; that Michael would see me and bolt in typical fashion. 

I watched, slumping down a little in our booth as not to draw attention to myself and provide Kyle with a chance to "prepare" Max and Michael. I tried to see over Jesse's big head, but at times, it was impossible. I saw only shadows as they slid into the booth across from Kyle. I leaned to the side, hoping for a glimpse of Michael and praying that would somehow be enough for me. That if I knew he was alright, saw his chest rising and falling _(Something I had a habit of doing when I stayed at his place, watching him taking breathes until he would open his eyes and groggily say, "You're freaking me out, Maria.")_, I'd be able to stand up and walk out the door without any second thoughts. 

It was a lie. I knew I wouldn't be able to do that again. Another round of separation would surely kill me. 

There was suddenly a lot of loud noise, a pounding of the fist and a glass falling to the ground before Kyle's voice shouted, "Calm down." 

I closed my eyes, knowing that this was it. I could feel Jesse staring at me curiously, fighting the urge to stand up and confront our alien amigos, but I didn't move. Paralyzed, that overdone saying of the deer caught in the headlights. Me equaled deer. 

"Maria?" It was his voice. I'd recognize it anywhere. There were two things I always knew even when Jesse told me that our friends had been in Boston and thoughts of passing right by Michael ate at my insides. 

His eyes. Michael had distinguishable eyes, pools of brown that couldn't seem to properly mask the pain that he was so good at playing off. And his voice. Sometimes raspy, always trying to conceal what he was really thinking, and probably my favorite sound to hear in the mornings. God, every girl needs to hear that perfect sound when they wake up in the morning, and I'm sure that's why on more than one occasion I fell back into things with Michael, stringing him along and fucking us both up, because his voice was like heroine. Strong, potent, and able to take me out of myself in ways I couldn't do on my own. 

I finally fluttered my eyes open when I heard a scuffle of boots along the floor and Jesse being lifted out of his chair. I saw Michael in a baseball cap-laugh worthy had the situation not been reeking of tension-lifting Jesse up by his collar. He didn't look happy to see either of us. Quite the opposite. He looked ready to kill us, melt us down to puddles of goo. 

I jumped out of the booth and tried to separate them, "Put him down! Put him down now!" When it didn't seem to work, I hissed, "You're drawing attention to yourself, moron! Put him down!" 

Yes, the amorous reunion I had always imagined. 

This seemed to penetrate Michael's thick skull and he dropped Jesse down. He fixed his eyes on me but they weren't how I had chosen to remember them. It was one of those stares I had tried to shake, like the first time we were ever forced together to keep Jim off the alien trail or during the heat wave when he had left me on a dance floor. I was pretty sure that this moment in the pizza place was what a painful death felt like. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Maria? Why would you let this idiot drag you into this? _Why are you here?_" 

Why was I here? At the moment, I was questioning that decision myself. I shrugged, a habit I had picked up over the past few years when I was no longer capable of articulating how I felt. I glanced around the restaurant, all eyes fixed on us, and I couldn't bring myself to say all those things I had planned to. Not with Michael shooting me daggers and giving off the vibe that I was the last person he wanted to see. 

"Maria? What the hell is going on?" Michael replied, his voice growing even louder, clear and stiff. 

"I needed to-" I stopped, censoring myself for old time's sake, and offered, "I was in the neighborhood?" 

"You think this is funny?" Michael countered. He turned to Kyle, who had joined our little reunion to-do, and added, "So this is why you let them tag along, Kyle? Because they were in the neighborhood?" 

"Hey," Jesse started to respond, but Max approached. He was a Max with long hair and a five o'clock shadow, resembling the description Liz had shared of future Max, and he once again possessed a knack for blending in with crowds. He was always good at quiet and controlled, something I envied at times. He had a talent for thinking outside the moment. It rarely worked for me. 

As evident by my current predicament. 

Max placed his hand on Michael's shoulder before shooting me a weak smile. I tried to smile back, but it struck me that Max was the one smiling while Michael looked ready to rip my hair out strand by strand. He said, "We should take this somewhere else, Michael." 

"Yes, _we _should," Michael paused and waved his hand in Max and Kyle's directions. "The three of us. These two can go back to their lives now." 

I folded my arms. I didn't deserve this crap. No matter what had happened or how estranged things between the two of us had been right before his departure. I wasn't going to let him talk to me like I was a five-year-old. I hauled back and shoved him in the stomach, "Nice to see some things don't change. You're still the biggest ass in the world." 

I stormed off, wishing I could forget him and cursing myself for getting caught back up in the same old theatrics. God, it was like I never learned my lesson. Michael and I were incapable of a normal relationship and it wasn't because he was an alien or on the run from the government. We were still so damn afraid of each other. 

Jesse reached me as I turned the corner, mumbling under my breath and looking for signs of a taxi to take me back to our hotel room long enough to pack and get back to my life in Boston. 

_Life in Boston_, I thought mirthlessly. I had no life. I did things, but it was me going through the motions rather than actually living. 

Jesse pulled on my arm, acting out some sort of soap opera drama on the streets of New York City. He said, "I'm sure he didn't mean it like it sounded, Maria." 

"No, he did," I replied. I folded my arms, protectively hugging myself, and added, "The big jerk!" 

"He's shocked to see you." 

"Like that's an excuse," I muttered. I shook my head and said, "Jesse, it's not-Michael usually means what he says. He doesn't want me near him." 

"That's a lie." 

"I'm going home." 

Jesse nodded down the block and said, "_They're_ your home." 

"No, they never were. It was a rest stop for me. Or vice versa. I don't know. It wasn't a permanent thing-Michael and I aren't like the rest of you. " 

"If that were true, you wouldn't have come all this way with me or endured half the shit we have," Jesse stated. 

I hated that he felt like he knew me well enough to do that, to call me on things and make me rethink my initial anger. I sighed, "Jesse, we found them. I helped you and now I can leave." 

"You want to leave me with those three? None of them have ever liked me at all. I need you to see this through with me, Maria," Jesse replied. 

"Do I look like a therapist to you?" I snapped as I lifted my hand to hail down a passing cab. 

Jesse waved the cab on and I shoved him in the stomach, embracing my fury within, the overwhelming anger at the whole mess. Jesse winced slightly and replied, "Liz and Isabel are in trouble, Maria. They're still your friends and they need you too." 

"Dammit, don't do this to me," I replied. I stepped away from the street, propping myself up against the brick wall and glancing up at the evening sky which was colored with flashing neon signs. I chewed at my bottom lip, refusing to let any of the agony leak out of me, and mustered, "I can't-you don't get this. I left this behind for a reason." 

"And you came back into it because you sensed it too. You could feel that something wasn't right and it's not. There is a real threat and your friends need you right now." 

The words caught in my throat, choking me until I managed to sputter out, "Fine." 

Jesse put his arm over my shoulder as if he was worried I couldn't walk without someone propping me up. I smiled gratefully and he said, "I guess you won that bet. No fainting. Near bloodshed, but no fainting." 

"Ha, _ha_." 

We walked back toward the restaurant. Kyle came over to me and whispered, "Are you okay?" 

I smiled, "Peachy." 

His expression read that he didn't believe me, but he dropped it. Instead he said, "Any chance you'd be willing to buy dinner? My stomach is craving sustenance." 

I pushed him away playfully and avoided meeting Michael's hardened face. Instead, I focused on Max and asked, "Are you hungry too? Café Maria is now taking orders." 

Max nodded and said, "But not here. Too much attention on us already." 

"Maria and I have a hotel room. We could go back and order room service." 

"Too risky," Michael replied, "You could still have agents following you and not even know it. We'd walk right into a trap. I bet you're completely oblivious to other people around you." 

"Hardly." 

"Whatever," Michael answered brusquely. He faced Max and said, "I think this is a bad idea, Max. They don't belong here." 

"Well, they're here, Michael, and we need all the help we can get right now." 

"But-" 

"We're not having this discussion here," Max replied. 

"DinnerI've been living on scraps for the past few days and I can't be expected to function this way." 

"There's a McDonalds down the block. Let's go there and you can fill us in on what you know," Max said. 

Jesse nodded and I shrugged. Michael stalked off ahead of the rest of us and I purposely trailed way behind, as if putting a few yards between us would make everything much better. I wondered how I could ever have missed him. He was so damn infuriating, insufferable even. 

"He's missed you," Max's voice filtered through my static, pulling me out of my inner-whine. 

I glanced at him and replied, "It doesn't matter." 

"It does. You know how he gets, Maria. Some things don't change." 

"Tell me about it," I replied. I took a good look at Max and smiled, "You still have to explain everything, keep everyone happy." 

"Nothing wrong with that." 

"No, not at all." 

"You look great. Boston agrees with you." 

"How did you-" 

"Jesse told us." 

"Right." 

"Liz has missed you so much. I've caught her by the phone on more than one occasion talking herself out of bothering you." 

"It wouldn't have been a bother and I've missed her too. They don't make friends like her anymore," I replied, grateful for the change of topic. Liz was a safe subject. My feelings for her were quite clear, no pretense or posturing. 

Max nodded, "We got married." 

"What?" I exclaimed. I noticed the others turn to face me, but I ignored them and continued to squeal in delight. I hugged Max and said, "That is fantastic!" 

Max returned the hug and said, "She wanted you there. Poor Isabel was well aware that she was the consolation maid of honor." 

I chuckled, "I wish I could've been there." 

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"I don't know, anything." 

"Not much to tell," I replied. I raced to the door of McDonalds that Jesse was holding open and stepped inside. I immediately felt the pores of my skin close up in the proximity of all the grease. After leaving the Crashdown, I had a strong aversion to all foods fatty. I gestured to an empty table, by a door to appease Kyle, and pulled my wallet out of my bag. I handed a twenty to Kyle and said, "If you could get me a Diet Coke, I'll claim a table." 

"Thanks Maria." 

I nodded, once again avoiding any contact with Michael, and made my way to the table. I fell into the chair like I was a British Royal that had no upper body muscle control and rested my head on the table. Probably not the most sanitary move, but I couldn't be concerned with such things. My lack of sleep over the past few weeks was catching up with me. I was exhausted, a balloon slowly deflating in a humid climate. 

A tray slammed down and Michael sat down across from me. I glanced past him and saw the others were still in line. The masochist in me emerged and attempted to make conversation, "What did you get?" 

He stared at me curiously before biting into his burger and between chews said, "Burger." 

"Oh. Good choice," I replied. I wanted to flog myself. Why was I suddenly possessed by a moron? Why couldn't I talk to him? Why was he making this so damn hard on me? 

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "You shouldn't be here, Maria." 

"So you've told me a hundred times already. Jesus Michael," I paused and laughed bitterly, "Missed me that much, huh?" 

His face was neutral. I studied it for as long as I could muster without bursting into tears, looking for some sort of understanding. But it was gone. Absence did not make the heart grow fonder. It made it indecipherable. He took another bite of his sandwich and I wished I was anywhere but sitting across from him. I said, "Nice to see your conversational skills haven't improved." 

His fist slammed down on the table, "What do you want from me, Maria? A big hug welcoming you to our world of danger?" 

"A simple hello would be nice." 

"_Hi_," he snapped as Jesse slid into the chair next to me. 

Jesse handed me a soda and looked back and forth between Michael and myself. He asked, "Everything okay?" 

"Fine," Michael answered, his eyes concentrated on his fries. 

"Freaking fantastic," I replied. 

"Am I missing something?" Kyle asked as he took his seat. 

"Yes, we've all voted, Kyle, and you're the winner of the best Soul-Glow hair since _Coming to America_," I said. 

Kyle shook his head, "Sure, mock me. As if I chose this look willingly." 

"I told you we could've tried a Mohawk," Michael replied. 

I nearly choked on my soda and laughed, "I would pay good money to see that." 

"Don't say something like that unless you plan to follow through. Right about now I'd do almost anything for a hot shower and a coffee," Kyle said. 

The ribbing passed and was replaced with a strained silence. My eyes wandered over the three of them, looking much older than they were, having surpassed me who still looked and felt fifteen. I would sneak peeks at Michael when he wasn't paying attention, when I thought it was safe, and somehow felt a bit better. He was alive. Sure, he was a jackass, but at least he was a living jackass. 

He caught me staring and said, "What is wrong with you?" 

"Nothing." 

"Maria-" 

"I'm glad you're okay," I admitted, betraying my own decision to be as mean to him as he was acting toward me. 

"Yeah," he said. _Yeah?_ I wanted to strangle him. I tried to make a real connection to him, to somehow get him to talk to me, and he replied "yeah?" Did things like this happen to other people? Did other girls put up with this crap? Michael continued, "We need to make sure Isabel and Liz are okay too." 

"Those two men are the answer," Jesse piped in. 

Michael looked at us like we were crazy and asked, "What two guys?" 

"We had a little run-in at your old apartment with these two creepy guys earlier," I replied. 

"Are you okay?" Michael asked studying my face intently. 

"I'm fine." 

"What happened?" Max replied. 

"They were looking for the key. They said that when they caught the girl she didn't have it on her like they hoped. Something about the key drawing unwanted attention," I replied, looking at Jesse to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. 

"Maria and I weren't able to stick around to find out anything more. We had to make a quick escape." 

"You could've gotten her killed," Michael stated evenly. He glared at Jesse and said, "What if you had gotten caught? You had no one to protect you." 

I wanted to reach over and hug him. Finally, a little bit of the Michael I knew was seeping through the obnoxious wall he had put up. Of course, he needed to stop acting like I couldn't take care of myself. I wasn't an invalid or completely stupid. "Don't freak out. We didn't get caught, so it doesn't matter." 

"Did they see you?" Max asked. 

"One of them," Jesse replied. 

"He had this weird looking scar. I know I've seen him somewhere before, but I couldn't figure it out," I added. 

"Great. They know what you look like. They could come after you now. Do you ever think about this stuff?" Michael questioned. 

"Yes, it's all part of my clever ruse to get killed, Michael," I replied. 

"This isn't funny, Maria." 

"I know that. We didn't plan on bumping into your buddies. We had no idea what we were stumbling upon." 

Michael stood up, "Exactly. No idea. You shouldn't have gotten involved in any of this. You should've left well enough alone." 

"ENOUGH," Max replied. He pushed Michael back into his seat and said, "It doesn't matter now. They're here and they're the only two that have any idea what we're looking for. If these two men are holding Isabel and Liz hostage, we need to locate them before it's too late." 

None of us tried to think about the "too late" that was lingering in the air around us. It was too much to process. Max looked almost green saying it. 

"You need to explain this key to us. How does it work?" 

"It doesn't work," Michael replied. 

"What?" 

He shrugged, "Well, we haven't been able to figure out anything. Isabel got it to glow a fluorescent green for about five minutes, but that's about it." 

"Did Lonnie say anything when she gave it to you? Any instructions?" 

"Don't you think we would've used them if she had?" Michael responded. 

"No instructions. She was a blubbering mess when she found us. She told us it was the only thing that was going to save us and that it unlocked a power that was going to end all our troubles." 

"And these two guys want it," I said, trying to work it all out in my head. 

"And they're holding my wife hostage," Jesse replied. 

"Mine too," Max said. 

"Where do we go from here?" 

"Max, Kyle, and I will go back to our place and try to lure the two men out of hiding." 

"Maria and I are involved in this now. Whether you like it or not," Jesse replied. I was impressed. Not many people talked to Michael like that. He had a knack for intimidation. 

"I'm not-" 

Max cut him off, "Fine. They saw Maria and we can use that to our advantage." 

"We're not using her as bait," Michael stated. 

Max nodded, "It might work, Michael. That's if Maria is okay with it?" 

I noticed the fury etched on Michael's face and my old stubborn streak, the part of me that almost enjoyed irritating Michael, took over. I replied, "If it will help save Liz and Isabel." 

"Then I'm going with her. She's not going anywhere near that key without protection," Michael said. 

"I wasn't going to send her in there all alone, Michael. We would have the rest of us positioned all around," Max replied. 

"That's fine and dandy, but she's still not going into that room without me." 

"Fine. I'm guessing they will give the two of you time to get to the room before following you. Jesse, Kyle, and I will follow them when they make their move. The three of us should be able to hold them off, no matter what type of powers they have. We get them to give us information. Make them tell us where the others are." 

"Why do all of our plans sound good in theory?" Kyle asked. 

"This will work," I said, putting on my best optimistic voice. 

"It better," Michael replied. 

_to be continued..._


	5. Part Five: The Plan

Disclaimer: I do not own Roswell or any of the characters those belong to Jason Katims and such, but the bad things I could do with Michael!  
  
Author's Note: You can reach me at Storydivagirl@hotmail.com, beholden.nu/white, or livejournal, username=storydivagirl. What is that? Does there seem to be a plot taken over now? Could it be? Wow! Shout outs to my wonderous beta, Steph, and to all of you leaving comments. I love the feedback! Feedback is my friend!  
  
PART FIVE - THE PLAN  
  
Prior to meeting Michael and getting swept up in a series of maddening events that never seemed to end, I had a very strong grasp on love. Sure, I had moments of temporary insanity where I succumbed to the girly calling of romantic sentiment, but I knew what I wanted out of life and exactly how love was supposed to fit into said life.  
  
I watched my mother's revolving door of hippie losers and guys that wasted away their days in Grateful Dead cover bands. My mother loved each one, convinced that every guy would finally repair the damages done to her by my father. The "one" lasted for a good three to four months before the only remnants of his existence was packed away in our garage with the green shag carpeting and outdated clothes. They became ugly reminders that when pulled out, people cringed and wondered what the hell they were thinking. That was what enduring love did to people. Overstaying welcomes, outlasting the initial attraction and hormones filling the air, was never bittersweet.just bitter.  
  
When I was thirteen, one of her boyfriends, much braver than most who avoided me at all costs (I was the reminder of the accidents that they might have created in a drug-induced coma of the past) once told me, "The best loves are those that last only for a summer." A mentality like that sucked for my mother, but I couldn't help but think it was a beautiful sentiment. Love should only last as long as a leg waxing. If done properly, love was impractical and impulsive like the red dress beckoning to you from the shop window that was radiant on you for a few weeks before falling apart in the dryer.  
  
When I shared this epiphany with my best friend, Liz rolled her eyes and told me, "You're too young to be so cynical, Maria."  
  
I didn't see it that way. I thought it was an amazing idea. Long-lasting love, the type that Nora Ephron stressed, was something sought after by the same people that refused to throw away milk on the expiration date. They allowed it to curdle and spoil until a horrendous odor permeated through everything. No, that was too real for me. And I wagged my finger in Liz's face, replying, "Love should be like a movie trailer-all the best parts in a two minute span, Liz. Life's too short to tolerate anything else."  
  
"I don't buy it for a second. One day some guy's going to come along and change that stupid attitude of yours. I hope I'm there to see it," she countered before getting back to wiping down the counters at the Crashdown. It was as if she placed a hex on me that made all my principles fly out the window whenever a boy named Michael Guerin glanced in my direction.  
  
In fairness, didn't we all understand such topics as love and commitment when removed from the situation? If Michael had been played by one of my mother's loser boyfriends and my mother had stepped into the role of Maria, I would've clearly seen the writing on the wall. Michael had been dangerous. Not because of shape shifters and government agencies and whatever else, but because he got me to believe curdled milk was appealing. He shot me full of incurable hope in something that should've been transient.  
  
I sickened myself. For the first time in my life, I understood that it was possible to loathe the things a person did to you and love him more than anything else for those same reasons. I really did love him too, even if I wasn't always the best at showing it. I loved him in that pop song way that never ended-intense swings of emotions built on a foundation of crazy beats that made my head numb and the world seem distant. With Michael, I ignored my philosophy on relationships and dreamt in long-term colors.  
  
Michael was like when I first learned to ride a bicycle. I would fall and fall, marring my skin with cuts and bruises, but I kept trying because when I did it right-when things were on-it was so fucking amazing. It was flying and wind pummeling my skin with air kisses and all smiles. A feeling like no other. And with Michael, I could finally grasp why my mother kept trying, kept holding onto shreds of faith that ardor and passion didn't expire once the right person came along, because I was doing the same thing.  
  
I sounded pathetic and I was.  
  
But I wasn't the only one.  
  
For the record, Michael was as universal as a stop sign. He thought that he was so different from everyone else, not like the rest of the guys roaming the planet, but the truth was that his bullshit appeared to be a trait found in all males-human, alien, or whatever. He was highly proficient in keeping me at arm's length, never allowing me to help him, hug him, or be in the moment with him, and it drove me crazy. I wished that I affected him the way he did to me, that in my presence he felt so alive that he wished he were dead.but he made it quite clear on several occasions that he was a male and thus intimately impaired.  
  
Like all girls with those types of boyfriends, I would tire of it. No screaming or ranting, but with a look of resignation that said, "I've had enough of this." And that's when he would do something that made me forget why I was mad. It was an inherent trait in men. As soon as the girl in their life was at the breaking point, they had the ability to suddenly become perfect and do things uncharacteristically sweet. I always fell for it, which, I guess, made me as universal as Michael was.  
  
As I walked down the street with Michael, I berated myself for the romantic expectations I placed on our reunion because it wouldn't have been us. If Michael had thrown his arms around me, I had kissed him in front of everyone, or we had pretended like no time had passed since our last brief encounter-it would've been us acting out an alien Melrose Place rather than being the Michael/Maria couple I had missed.  
  
These criticisms of my delusional expectations made it easier to somehow convince myself that the situation in McDonalds had been Michael and I being our emotionally retarded yet normal selves. He was abrasive, closed off, and unexpectedly endearing in the last few minutes and it was my job to take it from there.  
  
"Maria, what the hell are you doing?" Michael asked.  
  
I nearly ploughed down an older man dawdling along the block. I offered an unintelligible apology as I darted out of the way and stepped closer to Michael. I glanced at him, trying to make a joke out of the scenario, but he was too busy shaking his head and muttering under his breath. His obnoxious behavior served as a reminder of the negative and I almost failed to remember my plans to win him over with my charm and grace. Frankly, I was about ready to push him in front of a transit bus. I shrugged, "My mind's elsewhere."  
  
"Well, get it back here. You can't be daydreaming right now."  
  
I frowned, "I'm not stupid, Michael."  
  
"I didn't say you were. I said that you needed to focus," he replied. He shoved his hands into his pockets and ducked his head as we stopped with a group of pedestrians to wait for the signal to walk.  
  
I pointed at my face, serious and determined, and said, "In case you've forgotten, this is my attentive face. I'm alert and ready to roll."  
  
He rolled his eyes, "So you meant to take out the guy with the walker back there?"  
  
My hands fell on my hips and I glanced back, "There was no walker. I'd remember a walker." I grinned at him and added, "Maybe there was a cane, but I'm willing to bet that it was a gimmick rather than a necessity."  
  
"Yeah. Right," he replied, his lips curving upwards in the faintest of smiles for a second before he regained his stoic composure. He stared at me for a minute, probably the longest direct eye contact we had maintained since our reunion at Sal's, and darted into the street ahead of everyone else.  
  
I hurried up next to him, ignoring people's comments and honking horns. I asked, "What the hell is your problem, Michael?" He stopped walking abruptly and my cheek banged into his elbow. I groaned and I noticed his hands betray his demeanor and reach out to me. I pulled back though, why I don't know, and said, "I'm fine."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Great."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"Enough with the happy adjectives, Captain Redundant."  
  
"Maria, you shouldn't be here," he stated for the millionth time that day. We had a history of Michael pushing me away while I stuck to him like a burr; but even I had my limits for feeling worthless in such a short period of time. He snorted out air like he was a dragon with sniffles and added, "It's too dangerous for you to be involved."  
  
"If this is some bullshit about being a girl-"  
  
"No, it's about you not getting hurt because Jesse's an idiot. He doesn't know what our lives are like and it's going to get him killed, which, you know, is not my problem, but he's dragging you down with him."  
  
"And that's not your problem either."  
  
"You're my problem," he replied. When his words seemed to ricochet back at him in the air, he smirked and added, "A big pain in the ass that never goes away."  
  
I clutched my chest, attempting to maintain a false bravado, and retorted, "You're so witty, Michael. I'm surprised girls don't come a flocking with that sharp mind of yours."  
  
He rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to fight with you, Maria. We've got more important things to do."  
  
"I'm not going to fight with you either," I lied. There was more of a chance of Michael donning a bikini and performing the electric slide than the two of us avoiding any more fights.  
  
Michael stood there as people passed by, mumbling obscenities at us for blocking the sidewalk, and stared at me. It was a look that either read like he wanted to kiss me or disembowel me with a spoon.knowing the two of us, it was probably a mixture of both. He folded his arms and said, "You wouldn't be my Maria if you didn't constantly aggravate me beyond belief.all I was trying to point out was that this isn't the time to work out your misplaced guilt."  
  
"What?" I replied. His theories and anger were waylaid by the use of "my Maria" on repeat play in my head. Damn him. I was trying to maintain a modicum of detachment at the moment, a requirement for getting through Operation Crazy Alien Abduction bazillion and two, but Michael was testing my will. I would not be swayed. I would not be swayed.  
  
Fortunately, Michael continued talking and that easily remedied the situation.  
  
"Guilt. You and Jesse have other lives now. You're happy and it's nagging at your conscience that you've got friends who'll never have that. You probably picture Liz or me in some loser life living off cans of beans and I bet you think that you can fix everything. It's making you act crazy and put yourself in harms way for nothing because we're fine. Liz's fine. I'm fine."  
  
"It sounds like you've got it all figured out, Michael."  
  
He removed his baseball cap from his head, revealing a short crop of nearly jet-black hair going in every direction, and wiped his forehead. (I was right. He really did look good with the short cut-not that I noticed such things in times of desperation and danger.) He waved the baseball cap in my face and ranted, "Why do I bother? It's not like you'll listen to me anyway. You never have before." He started to walk off again and stopped a few feet ahead of me. He turned around and said, "And so you know, you're still as obstinate as ever."  
  
"I'm obstinate? Right, because you're so accommodating to views outside of your own."  
  
"I'm realistic. There's a difference," he replied, kicking at a styrofoam cup littering the ground. He watched it sail out into the street as a gust of wind picked it up and carried it away from us. "You shouldn't be-"  
  
"I swear to God, Michael. You're a broken record! If you finish that sentence one more time, I won't be held responsible for beating the crap out of you," I replied. I waited for him to say something aside from pointing out how far away he wished I was or to enlighten me as to what was running through that muddled mind of his. He didn't say anything though, just stared at me and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. I sighed and motioned down the block, "The others are probably in position by now. We need to get moving."  
  
"Let me do this alone."  
  
"No."  
  
"Maria."  
  
"I'm involved in this, Michael."  
  
"You don't have to be. I can't believe you're letting Jesse suck you back into this shit."  
  
I stopped and narrowed my gaze on him incredulously. I tried to pull a Superman and force my eyes to see through his impenetrable skull, but it was fruitless. Not even a superhero could breach the walls of Michael's brain. Was he really so thick as to believe that I was doing this out of loyalty to anyone other than him and Liz? Did he really think I was here because of Jesse? Did our time apart suddenly make me a stranger to him? I tensed the muscles in my forehead to keep any tears from falling. Our conversation was not the time for a loser breakdown. It was the time to kick his stupid, stubborn ass. I squeezed my fist into a tight ball and replied, "You're a moron, Michael."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're a moron," I repeated slowly.  
  
"Maria," his voice trailed off, sucked into the whirlpool of New York City noise. He leaned in close to me as if to reveal some great mystery of the world and went on, "I've been wondering when you and Jesse became such good friends."  
  
I laughed bitterly, "Careful there, Mikey. People might mistake that tone for jealousy."  
  
"I'm not jealous of Jesse," he snapped. He shook his head, "You know what? Let's get this over with. The sooner we get the key back in our hands and find the others, the sooner you can go back to your new life."  
  
He didn't give me the chance to respond. He stormed off ahead of me down the street. I glanced upward as if I would find some guidance in the blackened sky and chewed on my bottom lip until I could taste a tinge of blood on my tongue. I forced my legs to move along the concrete as I contemplated which misery was more appealing: 1) the dullness of flying solo in a world without the people I loved and missing the comforting sound of motorcycle wheels as they landed on my driveway or 2) staying here as Michael continued to make it blatantly obvious that those words he said to me that morning-how there was no other girl for him-were merely a great goodbye and nothing more.  
  
I caught up to Michael across the street from the dive motel they had been living in. Again I tried to picture his life there with the others, but it didn't seem real somehow. Whether it was that he was deserving of better or that I was so self-involved that the idea of him having an existence away from me was unfathomable, I didn't know. I hurried up to him and strained to see what he was scrutinizing.  
  
Michael barricaded me against the wall with his arm and peaked around the corner. He studied the layout of the block while I stood there trying not to notice the fact that his arm was touching my stomach. I attempted to disregard the zigzag of heat that washed over me and watched how he took everything in. He had become the expert surveyor and I wondered how many times he'd been in this position before. It made me sad to think about and reinforced the dire circumstances of our situation-Liz was missing and someone aside from the government wanted the group dead.  
  
He turned to me and said, "There's one guy in a car across from the building. Totally out of place and acting overly anxious. I'm guessing he's one of the guys that chased you."  
  
"Okay," I replied. I tried to get my head into the correct mindset, but my thoughts were jumbled and distant. I knew that Liz needed me and that I owed it to her to think of someone other than myself. I had to maintain some semblance of control and if that meant pretending Michael's proximity didn't affect me, I would do it.  
  
The bastard chose that minute to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me against him. The heat from seconds earlier was back in full strength and I hoped that my face wasn't bright red. I told myself it was Michael, just Michael, but it made the energy around us that much more acute. It felt so normal, so nice, to have that type of contact with him. I was aware of everything: the curve of muscles, the wind filtering through his clothes and inflating his chest size, and his smell, a scent that was distinctly his (not that in hours of sheer loserdom I ever tried to replicate it.well, once, but it went badly and therefore shouldn't count).  
  
Michael was oblivious to any awkwardness in our closeness. If he noticed my flustered appearance, he didn't say anything. He watched as a few kids walked by and once they passed, he released his grip on me. He nodded down the block and said, "We need to get into position. It doesn't look like it's an ambush, so I think it's as safe as we're going to get." He narrowed his gaze on me and continued, "Stay close to me, okay? I don't want them to see you until we're ready."  
  
I nodded and we hurried around the block until we were back in the alley I had become too familiar with earlier. He held out his hand for me to wait there while he made sure everything was clear before we went any further. He took my hand almost immediately and led me around to the back of the building by their room. We stood under the fire escape and my heart pounded as it hit me. The boxes were still on the ground and Jesse's imprint could be seen if a person knew to look for it. A man had tried to catch us and use us as bait. Now I was bait. I was putting myself in the line of fire.willingly.  
  
The Maria the Brave facade was quickly caving in on me and I resorted to what I did best. "Nothing like the smell of urine lingering in the air to turn a girl on."  
  
Michael stared at me like I had three heads. He said, "There doesn't seem to be anyone guarding the back and there's no one in any of the rooms around ours from what I can make out."  
  
"Make out. Interesting choice of words. Trying to drop me a hint?" I joked. The minute it slipped out of my mouth, I wanted to run away. What was wrong with me? Sure, I was facing imminent peril at the hands of a not- quite-sure-yet, but the way I was handling things, my only option was going to be to have the villain put me out of my misery. Euthanasia with a twist- stupidnasia.  
  
Michael's head practically spun around and he yanked me aside. He pressed me up against the wall and, for a minute, I actually thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he wagged his finger in my face like I was a five-year- old throwing a tantrum and said, "You're freaking out and you need to get a grip. You need to clear your head of whatever made you act like a lunatic and listen to me. If you can't do that, there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight even for a second."  
  
I shook my head and took a deep breath. I replied with vehemence that I wasn't sure I believed, "I need to do this, Michael. I was trying to relieve some stress. It worked and I'm fine."  
  
"You swear?" I nodded and he let me go. He moved back underneath the fire escape and stared up; peering at it like it was a great artistic masterpiece. He twisted his neck in my direction and said, "It's as I suspected. The entire area's empty."  
  
"And that upsets you?"  
  
"It worries me. We're either dealing with stupid amateurs or we're walking into a set up. Either way it could end badly."  
  
"You're a real comfort, Michael."  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked without a trace of the venom from earlier evident in his tone.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"I'm going to climb up the fire escape. Once I'm set up outside our room, I want you to walk around the block. Make sure they notice you, but don't be too damn obvious that they know it's a set-up."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"The others should be in position by now and you know what to do."  
  
"Yes," I replied, nodding for emphasis.  
  
Michael glanced at me for a minute as he lowered the ladder down as quietly as he could. He reached his arms up to get his balance as the wind rattled the ladder and climbed a few steps before turning to face me. He said, "Keep your eyes open and trust your gut. If anything seems strange-" he paused when he met the dubious look on my face and corrected, "Stranger than the usual or if one of those guys tries to take you anywhere aside from inside the hotel, you do whatever you have to do to get control of the situation. Scream, cry, run-I don't care."  
  
"Yeah, that won't attract attention."  
  
"My main concern won't be discretion if you're in trouble. I'm serious here, Maria. Promise me."  
  
I made the sign of the cross on my chest and smiled reassuringly, "I promise to do whatever the situation requires."  
  
He nodded and went back to climbing the stairs. He crept across the level area, crunching noises from the shards of glass echoing in the air, and positioned himself by the bathroom window. He waved his hand down to me in an all-clear motion and I broke into a hurried walk until I was out of the alleyway. I had seen enough cartoons in my day to know that any and all bad things happened in alleyways.  
  
I took a second to regain my composure and process Michael's instructions. There was no way that I would create some huge scene if those men tried to force the situation in their favor. The last thing my friends needed was even more attention drawn to them. Michael was too self-sacrificing at times and it was my job to protect him from himself. I tried to consider my options as I turned the corner and walked briskly toward the entrance of the place-of course, this wasn't something I was highly equipped to do.  
  
I took the stairs two at a time and walked over to the desk attendant. I knocked on the plexi-glass that separated me from the unsavory greaseball that I had talked to earlier that day. I smiled as he removed his attention from the small television and he stood up.  
  
"I'm not sure if you remember me, but I was here earlier and-"  
  
"I never forget a pretty face," he replied. He looked me up and down which made me want to gag and said, "You lost your boyfriend. That happens a lot around these parts."  
  
I leaned against the counter and smiled, "He was never my boyfriend, merely a means to an end." I pushed my hair back off my face and added, "I'm so flighty sometimes and the room you let us into, well, I forgot my bag up there and it has everything I own in it. Is there any chance you could let me back up there? I swear I'll only be a second, not even that.a nanosecond."  
  
"It probably isn't there. Two men went in after you and your friend."  
  
"Right. We bumped into them in the hall. Not the friendliest of folks, if you don't mind me saying so."  
  
"A girl like you shouldn't be wandering around a place like this alone," the greaseball stated as he removed a keychain from a nail and slid it through the opening in the glass to me. He winked, "Don't forget to say goodbye this time, sweetheart."  
  
I nodded, trying to hide the fact the skeevy pervert managed to give me goosebumps, and picked up the key. I smiled appreciatively and once I was out of his line of vision, I shuddered. I refused to let my paranoia get the better of me and study every face in the place. It would be too suspicious and I needed to seem like I was simply returning for the key.  
  
I started up the stairs when someone's hand latched onto my arm. I was yanked against a chest, unable to turn around, and a deep voice said, "You shouldn't have left this afternoon without introducing yourself to us, doll. She warned us you'd be back though."  
  
"She?"  
  
"All in good time, dollface."  
  
I rolled my eyes. Was there some sort of dumb villain handbook that mentioned the importance of cheesy openers? I glanced over my shoulder, hoping for a glimpse of the guy to jumpstart my memory and figure out where I had seen him before, but I couldn't get a look at his face. I did see Max loitering by the door though. He nodded to me that everything was okay.  
  
I tried to walk up the stairs, but the man's arm swiftly pulled me back to him. He dangled a knife in my face and said, "Don't."  
  
"Are we going to stand in the stairwell all night?"  
  
"We'll move when I'm ready to move, babycakes," he said. After another second, he added, "Don't force me to use this on you."  
  
"Let me guess. You'd hate to mar a beautiful face like mine."  
  
He chuckled, "You're mighty brave. She mentioned you lacked common sense." Again with the she. Who the hell was this mysterious she that knew so much about me? He motioned the knife up the stairwell and said, "Don't try anything funny."  
  
I didn't say anything. I walked up the stairs slowly and didn't stop until I was at the door to the room. The guy pointed the knife at my chest before reaching over and grabbing the key to the room from my hand. He unlocked the door with the knife still fixed on me. He kicked the door open and pushed me inside, allowing it to slam shut behind him. I landed on the bed with a thud and stared up at my captor, trying to place him. The scar was quite distinctive and the only small patches of hair he had on his head were slicked back. There was a small tattoo on the side of his neck with a strange symbol on it. I had seen him before. I know I had, but where? That was the question of the day.  
  
He caught me studying him and lifted the hood of his jacket. He pointed the knife at me and he questioned, "Where is it?"  
  
"The deodorizer? I don't know, but I wish I did. It stinks in here."  
  
"This ain't no comedy club, toots. My boss isn't a very patient man. If you don't help me out, I'll be forced to get him involved. You don't want that."  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"The Morlagola Key. It was supposed to be on the girl. We know that her twin gave it to her."  
  
I could only assume he was talking about Lonnie and Isabel. I replied, "Look, I don't know anything about a Morgwhosit key."  
  
"Then why were you in this room and why did you run?"  
  
"I'm sorry, but would you stick around a room that you weren't supposed to be in? My friend and I were looking for some people and you showed up instead. We thought maybe we had the wrong room and got scared. Is that a crime?"  
  
"You're lying to me. The key was here and now it's not," he replied.  
  
"If you tell me more about it maybe I can help you figure it out. I did know the inhabitants of this room. I know how they think."  
  
The guy looked unsure. He paced the room and muttered to himself under his breath. My eyes shifted to the window. I didn't see Michael and I panicked. What if the other one had grabbed him while I was stuck with this one? Where had the second guy gone? The guy quickly spun on his heels and hovered over the bed, "The key.unlocks all the power.she has the amulet, but she needs the key and the other piece. It could destroy her otherwise."  
  
"What amulet?"  
  
"No, no way, that's not important. Where's the key?"  
  
"Maybe they destroyed it. If it's as powerful as you make it sound, maybe they didn't want anything to do with it."  
  
He shook his head, "No. It can't be destroyed. It's not of this earth. The Morlagola made it to withstand the greatest annihilation. It serves the greater purpose."  
  
"Controlling the world?"  
  
"World?" he scoffed and said, "Little girl, you need to give me the key. Your friends don't know how to control it. When they unleashed its power, they sent out a beacon to every galaxy. My boss wants to take it off their hands. We get the key and we let your friends go."  
  
"Are you saying that you're an alien?"  
  
He laughed callously. "I ask the questions here. You need to tell me what you know." He moved closer, holding the blade against my neck. He said, "If you really don't know, you're useless and I'll slit your throat right now. She didn't say I couldn't have some fun with you. I'd probably be doing her a service."  
  
"Who is this person you're talking about? Why would she want me dead?"  
  
"I'm not here to help you figure things out. You're here to give me the fucking key!"  
  
I shut my eyes and replied, "For the last time, I came back here to get my bag."  
  
The next few seconds were a blur. I felt the metal pinch into my skin and the trickle of blood down my neck. I silently debated with telling him what I knew, but it wouldn't matter. My gut was telling me that I would end up in this position no matter what I said and if his partner really did catch Michael, then there was no reason to fight back. I swallowed hard, figuring the end was near, half-expecting to see the white light, when a loud explosion sounded and the door burst open. Arms shook me and I opened my eyes to see Jesse staring at me frantically.  
  
"What happened?" I croaked out. No one heard me over the chaos in the room. I heard Michael and Max talking in thunderous tones while Kyle coughed and tried to open the window. I regained some strength in my voice and shouted, "Where is he?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Jesse asked. When I didn't reply right away, he shook me lightly, "Maria?"  
  
I blinked a few times, trying to ignore the heinous smell permeating the room, and tried to figure out what happened. I forced a smile in Jesse's general direction and managed to reply, "Nice timing."  
  
"We got held up."  
  
"What happened? Did you get the sudden urge to read the paper?"  
  
"No, Maria, we actually got held up. A crack junkie living on the next floor took my wallet," Jesse replied with a worried grin. He glanced around and called out, "I need a towel for her neck."  
  
The words had barely escaped from his mouth when Michael appeared with a towel that was supposed to be white, but more closely resembled decaying meat. Relief washed over me as my eyes set on Michael's familiar form. The other guy hadn't killed him after all.  
  
Where the hell was he while I was getting my neck sliced open? Did the moron decide now was the most opportune time to buy a bottle of Snapple?  
  
Michael knelt in front of me and held the damp towel over my neck. He stared at me and I winced as he applied pressure with his hand. He said, "He only nicked you with the knife. You'll be okay."  
  
"I'm not worried about the cut. God knows what unstoppable bacteria have been incubating on that towel.and now it's on me," I said. I smiled carelessly, allowing my fingers to briefly run over his hand, and replied, "Are you okay?"  
  
He didn't answer at first.  
  
"Michael," I prompted.  
  
He stared at me with this unreadable and intense gaze that made my legs go numb with overcharged energy. He pulled his hand away from my neck and said, "I'd be better if I hadn't blown up our only lead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I couldn't get to you quick enough so I had to use my powers on him," Michael replied.  
  
"What about the other one?"  
  
"I didn't see anyone else, Maria. Are the two of you sure there were two of them originally?"  
  
"Yes. I'm not completely mental," I snapped. My head hurt like hell, what I could only imagine it would feel like to be the nail that caught the horseshoes during a game. Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack. My arms were covered in goosebumps and I tried to play it off to what had happened only moments ago. It was a normal reaction. I should've been scared. But I couldn't ignore the lingering sensation that this was only the beginning. I said, "What if he knew it was a trap? What if he's biding his time somewhere?"  
  
I stood up and looked at the others who were hovering around the night table. Max placed his hand on the wall, changing the form of the molecules until they separated and revealed a hole. He pulled out a long gold chain with a large key at the bottom. It looked like something a rapper or pimp would wear on a night out on the town.  
  
"That's what I nearly got stabbed for?"  
  
"Yes," Max answered. He dangled it in front of him before placing it on the bedspread while he resealed the hole in the wall. I found myself drawn to the odd shape of the key. It didn't look like a normal key, actually quite different in form and color, but it looked familiar. It felt like des ja vu-I was sure I had seen it before.  
  
The whole situation was more than freaking me out. I'd seen some strange things in the past few years thanks to the Czechoslovakians, but this was beyond all of that. This filled me with dread. I didn't say anything. I didn't know why I was afraid to share my trepidations with the group, but I was.  
  
Instead I opted for my normal sarcasm. "That's the most garish looking thing I've ever seen."  
  
Michael placed his hands on my shoulders and steered me into a seat at the table. He chucked the towel at my face and ordered, "Keep the towel there for another minute."  
  
"I just-that gaudy monstrosity is filled with great power? What does it do? Blind people with its ugliness?" I turned to Jesse who was seated next to me and added, "Those Morlagolas made it indestructible but couldn't take the extra few minutes to make it pretty?"  
  
Jesse laughed and slid a bottle of water across the table. He said, "For you."  
  
I picked it up, not realizing how thirsty I was until the first drop of water landed on my tongue, and gulped down half the bottle. I wiped the excess water from my lips and said, "You're a godsend, Jesse the Jackass."  
  
"The nickname stuck, I see."  
  
"I only mock the ones I love."  
  
"That's a lie. She mocks everyone," Kyle said.  
  
"Shush," I said, swatting him away. As he joined Max and Michael, I added, "I was trying to make him feel special."  
  
"I don't think I've ever been so flattered in my life," Jesse responded. He watched as Max, Michael, and Kyle inspected the key, talking in hushed whispers. He leaned over to me and asked, "Did the guy mention anything about Isabel?"  
  
"Not really. He was too busy blathering on about death and destruction. Nothing makes people chatty quite like ominous evil."  
  
"This key is evil?"  
  
I shrugged, "He mentioned something about not being able to understand its power." I jumped out of my chair when a fluorescent light shot across the room. A few smaller flashes lit up the room and I followed the direction, straight to Michael.  
  
"You put it on."  
  
"I told him not to," Max replied.  
  
"Michael!"  
  
"Maria, I was trying to keep it safe."  
  
"And your pocket wouldn't work? Take it off," I said, reaching out to remove the thing from around his neck. From what the guy had said before Michael vaporized him, I didn't think it was a good idea for him to be wearing it. My mind filled with images of the key sucking out Michael's soul. Michael smacked my hand away and I repeated, "Take it off, Michael."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"I've got a bag. You can put it-"  
  
"No, I literally can't. The damn thing won't come off."  
  
I looked down at the chain, which was glowing neon green and the key itself was bright red with colors swirling around its center. I turned to Max and said, "That can't be good."  
  
"I'd have to agree with you. Mr. Impatience once again rushes into stupidity," Max replied.  
  
I stood on my tiptoes and smacked the back of his head, "Idiot."  
  
"How was I supposed to know?"  
  
"You're unleashing beacons into the universe, Michael," I said. I noticed everyone looking at me like I was crazy and shrugged. I covered my face with my hands, hoping for a simple answer, and said, "I'm not exactly sure what that means, but I got the distinct impression from evil dude number one that it wasn't a good thing."  
  
"What else did the guy say to you before he became alien ash?" Kyle asked.  
  
I attempted to touch the key again, but Michael pushed my hand away and shot me a warning look. I growled and answered Kyle, "It's called the Morlagola Key. It works with an amulet. Apparently whoever that freak was working for needs it to use the amulet-otherwise it can destroy her."  
  
"Her?"  
  
"Lonnie," Kyle guessed.  
  
"Why would she kidnap Isabel and Liz to get something she already had possession of, boys?" I asked.  
  
"Who knows why that girl does anything? If she's involved, I'll put an end to it," Max stated.  
  
"I don't think it's her," I replied.  
  
The guys ignored me and continued to talk out their next move. I didn't pick up most of it. Too busy studying the small cramped quarters, looking for clues, though I had no idea what would constitute a good lead.  
  
When I turned my attention back to their conversation, Max whispered something to his two flunkies, who nodded in agreement.  
  
Michael piped in, "We've got the upper hand."  
  
"Says the man lit up like a float in the Disney Electric Parade," I muttered.  
  
Jesse glared at him and said, "Let's not forget that they've still got Isabel and Liz held hostage."  
  
Michael spun around and stared down Jesse. If it were possible, I had a feeling Michael would've melted Jesse with his retinas. He said, "Did I ask for your opinion? I mean, what are you doing here anyway? Don't you have a law firm to get back to?"  
  
"Isabel is my wife."  
  
"Nice of you to remember that after eighteen months of not being concerned."  
  
"Michael, that's not fair," I interrupted.  
  
Michael shrugged, "Whatever. I guess you have to stick up for him."  
  
"That's ENOUGH, Michael," Max said in his not-another-peep voice.  
  
"What do we do now?" Kyle asked. He glanced at each of our faces and added, "Jesse has a point. They've still got Liz and Isabel and we're no closer to finding them than we were earlier."  
  
"We wait. If Maria's right and there were two of them, then someone should be coming for this key again real soon," Michael answered.  
  
"Except it's stuck to your freaking skin," I replied.  
  
"So?"  
  
"So? Did he say 'so'?" I replied. I tried to keep myself cool and collected. What we all needed at the moment was a level head, but that was like asking Ozzy Osbourne to give up cursing. I curled my hand into a fist to keep from smacking him and said, "Michael, you don't know what this key can do. What if it kills you? Did you think of that?"  
  
"Do you have a better idea?"  
  
"There's got to be someplace to get information on this thing."  
  
Michael folded his arms, "Like where? The alien research library?"  
  
I rolled my eyes and responded dryly, "I was going to say find his accomplice, but your idea might work."  
  
Max rubbed his temples and said, "Maria, you have to tell us everything the guy said to you."  
  
"I basically did. Key.needs amulet.can't be destroyed.he didn't say if he was an alien."  
  
"He wasn't," Michael replied.  
  
"Maria, you got a better look at him this time though, right?" Jesse spoke up. He came around and said, "Earlier you said the guy looked familiar. Do you remember him now?"  
  
"I can't place him."  
  
"Think Maria," Max replied. He stared at me and said, "We need something to go on, a way to track down his partner. If we find his partner, I think we'll find Isabel and Liz, but we don't have much time. I can feel her growing more and more distant from me. The both of them. My connections with them are weakening."  
  
"No pressure there," I replied. I wracked my brain for any memory of the man, but the only thing that kept playing in my head was the knife against my throat. I instinctively clutched at my throat and turned away from everyone.  
  
Michael's voice filtered through my head, "Give us a minute."  
  
There was a shuffle of footsteps as everyone crossed the room and exited the door. Michael put his finger on my chin and lifted my face to look at him. I thought that I must be dying because Michael was being sweet. I tried to prepare myself for this moment, having waited for it our entire on again/off again relationship, but it didn't matter. He said, "I told you not to come."  
  
It snapped me out of my little funk and I replied, "Are you for real?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"No, I really want to know. I nearly get my head severed off and you're going to play the I-told-you-so game with me?"  
  
"Well, you shouldn't have come. He was our one lead and he's dead now."  
  
"Because you blew him up."  
  
"What was I supposed to do? Let him kill you?" Michael hollered. He slammed his fists on the table and knocked the remainder of my water onto the floor. I could hear him letting out sharp, ragged breaths and he said, "I was happy when you decided not to come with us, Maria."  
  
The words pierced through me. I'd never been shot in my life, but I was pretty sure that a bullet felt quite similar to the ache coursing through my body. His words dug into my flesh and every nerve in my body was on alert, well aware of what had occurred. I fell into the chair and said, "Oh."  
  
Michael didn't look at me. He cleared his throat and he muttered, "It wasn't how-"  
  
I cut him off when I noticed the key. It had risen off his chest and was pointing past me, outside the window, glowing a violet color. I pointed and said, "What the hell?"  
  
"You know I'm not good with words and that came out-"  
  
"Moron, look down at the key," I ordered as I jumped out of the chair. I was going on pure adrenaline, thankful for any distraction from the severity of Michael's words. Until that moment, I was able to allow myself to believe that he and I could have a happy ending. I was sure that once we got Isabel and Liz back, he would insist I stay with them-stay with him. Who knew that one sentence could destroy all those hopes in the span of a few seconds?  
  
But there wasn't time to worry about that while Michael resembled an Oompa Loompa suffering from radiation poisoning.  
  
"Michael, you're blue."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your skin is blue," I stated as calmly as I could muster. I hurried to the door, practically swung it off its hinges, and shouted, "Max, we've got a problem."  
  
The three of them rushed into the room and their mouths gaped open at the sight of Michael. Kyle asked, "Why does Michael resemble a dance floor at a gay bar?" He met our curious gazes and added, "Not that I've ever been to one. Read about it in books."  
  
"Michael, do you feel okay?" Max asked, approaching him cautiously. Max placed himself between Michael and me as if he expected Michael to excrete whatever was causing this situation.  
  
Michael said, "Aside from the fact that I'm a freaking smurf?"  
  
"Can you explain what was happening right before-"  
  
"We were fighting, then the key levitated and pointed out the window. Next thing I knew Michael was blue," I said and Michael nodded in agreement. I asked, "Does it hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Has it affected your powers?" Max inquired.  
  
"Not that I can tell, but I haven't tried to use them."  
  
"Maybe it's the beacons. Maybe they've located you."  
  
Michael glared at me, "You're a real picker-upper, Maria. It's what I love about you."  
  
I rolled my eyes, "Says the moron who decided to play dress up with an ancient amulet's link to god only knows what!"  
  
Max held up his hand for quiet while Kyle muttered to Jesse, "Some things never change."  
  
Max paced the room and said, "There has to be some explanation for this. What motive did Lonnie have for giving us this?"  
  
"Do you think she attempted to use it and attracted unwanted attention to herself?"  
  
"It's possible," Max replied. He glanced over at Michael who was leaning against the wall with a pained expression on his face. My eyes widened and I looked at Jesse and Kyle nervously, wondering if they saw the same thing or if I was hallucinating. I didn't think it could get stranger than seeing Michael turn blue, but I was beginning to think I spoke too soon. Max asked, "Are you okay?"  
  
"Doesn't matter how many times you ask the question, Maxwell, the answer doesn't change."  
  
"I'm only asking because you're floating."  
  
"Come again?" Michael replied. He looked down at his feet and his face contorted in horror when he realized he was hovering about a foot off the ground.  
  
I fell back into the chair and said, "If he starts spitting up pea soup, I'm outta here."  
  
"You and Jesse should probably leave now, Maria," Max said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"No way. I'm not leaving until Isabel is safe," Jesse added.  
  
Max shook his head, "I don't know what we're dealing with here, but neither of you have any powers to protect yourselves from Michael."  
  
"I don't need protection from Michael," I stated.  
  
"Maria, don't be stupid. We don't know what's going on here," Michael replied.  
  
"Right. I know. And you never wanted to see me again," I said, finishing his train of thought for him. Suddenly, despite all the distractions in the world, all I could think about was the overwhelming despair I was feeling. I hated that I was allowing it to take hold of my brain and scolded myself for being so damn selfish. My best friend was in danger and we had no idea what was going on with Michael, but there I was, wishing I had never let Jesse talk me into this adventure or re-igniting the hope I felt whenever I was around Michael.  
  
I should've known it was useless right from the start. Michael and I never changed. He would always be pulling away and I would always be left, clamoring to make sense of it all. There would always be danger and it would always be held over my head that I couldn't truly understand the impact of it all.  
  
Because I wasn't like them and loving him wasn't enough to make that difference inconsequential.  
  
I glanced at Michael, looking for any indication that I should stay, that he wanted me around, but his face was a blank canvas. I sighed and said, "Fine. You guys win."  
  
"What?" both Michael and Jesse replied.  
  
I turned to Jesse and said, "We're more harm than good right now. They can't concentrate on Liz and Isabel if they're worried about protecting us, Jesse."  
  
"Maria."  
  
I cut Jesse off, "Give Max your information and when they've got everything under control, Isabel can contact you if she wants. Either way--" I looked to Michael and finished, "We don't belong here."  
  
"She's my wife."  
  
"She's my sister, Jesse. I swear I won't let anything happen to her, but Maria's right. We don't know what we're dealing with."  
  
"We can help."  
  
"No, we can't," I said.  
  
Jesse stared at me for a minute before shrugging in defeat. He pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and said, "Give this to her for me." He handed the card to Max and hurried out of the room without a second glance.  
  
I stood still, listening to Jesse's footsteps as he rushed down the stairs echoing in the air, until the sound of a throat clearing pulled me out of myself. I walked over to Kyle and hugged him. I pulled at his crazy Afro and said, "Take care of yourself."  
  
"I will. Be careful."  
  
I nodded and turned to Max. I hugged him too and he said, "I suggest you go straight to the train station. You'll be safe once you get back to your life."  
  
I bit my lip and said, "You find her, Max. Make sure she's okay and tell her how much I love her."  
  
Max nodded and hugged me. He said, "I promise, Maria."  
  
I faced Michael and stared at him for a minute. Neither of us said anything, even though I was willing him to say the words, to find the magic phrase that would get me to stay and help him. He raised his hand in a half-wave, "See ya."  
  
I gritted my teeth together and mumbled, "Whatever."  
  
I didn't look back-there was to be no more looking back-and I hurried out of the room, taking the steps two at a time. I exited the building, allowing the cold twilight air to sting my skin and act as the activation to the pent-up tears. I noticed Jesse standing on the corner, kicking at a fire hydrant, and walked around him without a second look.  
  
I heard him yell my name, but I kept walking. The only clear thought I had was that I had to keep moving and get the hell outta New York. I quickened my step, when Jesse's voice got closer as if I could mentally outrun him.  
  
I made it about ten blocks before Jesse's arm finally pulled me aside. Strangers on the street glanced at us like we were a typical lover's spat unfolding before the public's eye and I pushed him off me. I hissed, "Don't touch me." I rubbed my arms and said, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this, Jesse. I can't believe I let your stupid optimism wash off on me."  
  
"We can't give up, Maria. The people we love need us right now."  
  
"Enough with your pep talks. I don't care what you do. You want to tail the alien crew? Be my guest. But leave me out of it." I started to walk off down the block, unsure of where I was going. My emotions were in control and unfortunately they had little sense of direction. I glanced at the street sign and Jesse took that as the opportunity to fall in stride with me. I shot him a look and said, "You're a nuisance."  
  
"They don't call me Jesse the Jackass for nothing."  
  
I felt the start of a smile, but I pushed it down. I said, "My emotions can't keep-we're different from them, Jesse. You and I will never comprehend how hard it is to be an alien and they hate us for it."  
  
"Liz hates you? Michael too?"  
  
I laughed mirthlessly and stopped walking abruptly. I faced Jesse and said, "Let's face the truth, Jesse. There is a reason that neither of us went with the group the first time around."  
  
"I wasn't invited."  
  
"Which I might have believed a few weeks ago, but now that I know you, I get the strong feeling that no one could stop you from doing something you really wanted to do."  
  
"Same goes for you."  
  
"Exactly my point."  
  
"Your point is nonexistent."  
  
"Is not."  
  
"You seemed to have misplaced it somewhere amidst your whining and pity party for one."  
  
"Oh shut up," I started to walk again. I crossed the street and walked down the stairs to the subway station. I noticed Jesse was still riding my tail and I chucked a subway token at his head. His hand snapped up and caught it nonchalantly. He winked at me and I said, "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but you're almost as annoying as Michael."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, sliding the token into the machine and walking through the subway gates.  
  
I stood on the platform, pretending to get my bearings although it was pretty obvious I was winging it, and replied, "Then you're an idiot to boot."  
  
Jesse stepped in front of me and said, "It wasn't supposed to end like this."  
  
"This is exactly what was supposed to happen," I replied. I felt my lungs burning and my stomach lurching forward as my mind replayed the incident. I pushed back the tears and said, "Michael told me he never wanted me to come along in the first place. Isabel didn't either.and if we were both honest, we didn't want that anymore than either of them."  
  
"Because we're different?" Jesse asked. When I nodded, he replied, "That's bullshit."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"If you really believed that, none of them would've been in your life when I met you. How long were you and Michael together? And what about Liz? How long have the two of you been friends?"  
  
"It's not that simple."  
  
"Everything is that simple, Maria. Every single thing that happens can be broken down into a simple act, but it's us humans that make it difficult," Jesse replied. A loud horn sounded and the light from an approaching train could be heard. Jesse glanced at me and said, "But if you're willing to let Michael and Max push you away because you're all scared of how much you need one another, well--"  
  
"Spare me the clichés. My head hurts enough already."  
  
Jesse shrugged, "Maria, I'm a man of logic. It's how I make my living, and logically, they need us. We don't have targets on our backs. The fact that we aren't like them, that we're different, is what would make it easy for us to get close to whoever is responsible for everything."  
  
The subway screeched to a halt and the bell sounded as the doors opened. I stood there, not moving, and the doors shut before me. Jesse smirked and I said, "I'm not sure I buy this theory of yours, but what are you suggesting here?"  
  
"That guy told you about the key right? Any information that the guys have, we have too."  
  
"So?"  
  
Jesse grinned. He said, "Remember earlier you said that there had to be a place to get information on the key?"  
  
"It was less than thirty minutes ago, Jesse. I'm crazy, not senile," I commented. I met his eerie grin and said, "I also recall that there's no place to get that type of data. I was grasping at straws."  
  
"But maybe you weren't. Where's the alien capital of the world?"  
  
I stared at him for a minute and he nodded as if he could read my mind. My mouth mimicked his goofy grin and we simultaneously said, "Roswell." 


	6. Part Six: The Caverns

Disclaimer: Not to be redundant, but I believe in covering my butt. I do not own Roswell or any of the characters those belong to Jason Katims and such, but the bad things I could do with Michael!  
  
Author's Note: I am a fanfiction.net retard, I think because I hate the way my story formats here half the time. If you want to see it with "perfect" (heh) formatting, you can find the story on my website as well. You can reach me at Storydivagirl@hotmail.com, beholden.nu/white, or livejournal, username=storydivagirl.  
  
PART SIX - THE CAVERNS  
  
It's funny how things are remembered. Sometimes memories are like photographs or homemade videos-permanent and unchangeable. Then there are times that it's pressed yellow paper with haikus about lost love that overuse words like could've been and forever that some stranger stumbles upon years later. On a particularly loathsome day, it's a bungee chord that's too long for a short jump.  
  
Memories, our ability to retain all that we've learned and experienced, are marks of our character. Memories are the only truly original things left in the world. No one-no matter how similar her journey to those around her or how connected she feels to her loved ones-will ever have the same collective knowledge gained through a continuous process of trial and error.  
  
My life is a series of notes that separately make no sense at all but together form a melody. In the beginning, the melody is like a Gregorian chant played backwards-choppy, full of doom, and awful to the ears-but with enough practice and reworking, it has the potential for metamorphosing into a beautiful symphony. My life is the music and I am the composer without control of the orchestra. But I have a fine-tuned ear and a pretty good idea which instrument to utilize to get me through the more difficult notes.  
  
Unfortunately, I'm plagued by regret and it bulldozes most attempts at creating something real, something worthy of being memorable.  
  
I memorized my life as if it was the grid to a building that I planned a heist on. I think back on things and know exactly what I did wrong. I can pinpoint the moment I lost control of a conversation and the second I should've walked away from some fruitless endeavor. I can retrace every step I've taken and tell myself that if only I had stepped the other way everything would be perfect, everything would be right with the world. If only was my personal motto.  
  
If only I hadn't pressured Liz into telling me what was going on with her after the shooting. If only I had told Valenti what I knew in the beginning and made myself an adversary rather than a friend. If only I had gotten out and called the police when Michael hijacked my car to go seek out the first of many alien answers. If only I had the good sense to abide by Michael's wishes to break things off that very first time. If only I didn't love him. If only Jesse didn't know it, see a kindred spirit or friend or whatever the hell we were to each other, and therefore know exactly what to say to thwart my attempts at better rewrites.  
  
If only I could outgrow my dependency on the words if only.  
  
Neither Jesse nor I had talked about our lives away from Roswell or the others (we were a pooled memory of the lives we saw for ourselves in dreams and retakes from scenes already wrapped) but I had the sneaking suspicion that his forte in litigation was closing. I could almost see the jurors clapping as Jesse finished his final arguments and the few that thought he was an arrogant fool begrudgingly shrugged like what else were they going to do but go along with him. Jesse appeared to have a strong grasp on word manipulation and not only did he get you to go along with him, but he actually made you think it was the best idea you ever conceived.  
  
Jesse was an experienced closer and I was a sucker; or more precisely, I had been suckered. The truths of which slowly sunk in as we drove down the highway. He had played me and I wasn't sure whether I was annoyed or impressed. I never thought he had it in him. Then again, until a few weeks ago, I never gave him much thought at all.  
  
We drove down the road in the cramped sedan, the familiar orange-stained sky welcoming us back to New Mexico as a small gust of wind sprinkled dirt over the road as if it were fairy dust. A truck gaining speed in the horizon hurried toward and then past us, leaving behind a swirl of exhaust and grime  
  
Jesse's voice cracked through the barrier of static and uncomfortable silence. He said, "We should be there in another hour or so."  
  
The sun filtered through the window and did dances on our skin. I used my hand to create breaks in the oncoming dimness of the evening-shadow puppets for the bored and crazy-and nodded. I glanced out at the familiar scenery-- cactus, cactus, dirt, dirt, Rob Lowe, nope cactus--and Jesse continued talking. He had been going nonstop since we boarded the flight to New Mexico. He seemed to worry that if he stopped talking he'd realize that all our hopes and chances for protecting the people we care about were wrapped up in some ridiculous gamble. I was scared that if he didn't stop talking, keep constantly counting down every passing second with minutia, I was going to hop out of the car and scream that this was the stupidest thing we had done to date.  
  
We were both counting on the answer falling into our laps if we returned to the place where it all began and it was making us both slightly crazy (It didn't help that we had barely survived a four-hour flight and a long drive in a Volvo with a broken tape deck and crappy reception, the only car left at the rental place). I made a silent decision not to think about what I was doing for ten minutes. I could do it.  
  
Jesse said, "I haven't been back here since the night they left. My mother wanted me to come home for a couple of different holidays, but I could never get on the plane. Everything reminded me of her." Her. Isabel. A member of the alien trio that set this whole soap opera into motion. So much for not thinking about it.  
  
I hummed along to a song on the radio, trying to force my mind not to think. Jesse smiled and said, "You've got a great voice."  
  
"You can tell that from humming?"  
  
"No, I've seen you perform."  
  
"That's news to me."  
  
"Doesn't surprise me. You all lived in your own world that no one could penetrate."  
  
I sighed, "I know."  
  
"Well, I understand now," Jesse replied. When I nodded, he took that as a sign to keep talking, "Isabel dragged me to one of your shows. She wanted me to get to know her friends. I have to admit that after my few dealings with the group of you, I was half-expecting a girl dressed in Goth that screamed out about killing kittens," he paused when he met my amused expression. He chuckled lightly and admitted, "I thought you were all a bunch of paranoid freaks."  
  
I nodded, "Which was a completely accurate assessment of the situation. Well, minus the killing kittens and Goth wardrobe. That is so over, you know."  
  
"I must've missed the memo."  
  
I sighed melodramatically and said, "Jesse, I hate to tell you this, but there was a reason you never got that memo."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You might have a brain and have been blessed with a wealth of good looks, but you're utterly lacking anything involving the word cool."  
  
"I'm cool." I snorted and he repeated more adamantly, "I'm cool. I never had trouble in that department in my life."  
  
"Whatever you say, Jesse."  
  
"I was the coolest guy in the city of Roswell."  
  
"Our small town's answer to James Dean," I commented.  
  
"With darker hair."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"And not so much internal strife."  
  
"Probably not, you were a man with goals not woes."  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes at my pathetic attempt at humor and replied, "I never really rebelled either."  
  
"You were more like Complacent Nerd Without A Cause."  
  
He grinned, removed one hand from the steering wheel, and tossed a package of cupcakes at me. He aimed for my chest, but it ricocheted off my forehead and I grimaced out of shock more than anything. I picked the cupcake package up off the dashboard and resisted the urge to take out one of his eyes. I didn't want to send us crashing into a ravine, especially since no one would think to come looking for us. Instead I tossed Jesse's weapon of choice into an empty cup holder, clutched my head, and asked, "What the hell was that for?"  
  
"You looked hungry?"  
  
"Try again, jackass."  
  
"I wasn't trying to hurt you and--"  
  
I interrupted, "And I don't eat anything that has a pink frosting."  
  
"Your loss is my gain," he said, ripping open the cupcake. He winked at me and spoke with a mouthful of pink, "I had to defend my reputation, Maria. You made me sound like a loser."  
  
"Well, you did load the car up with a necessity for every conceivable type of disaster known to man. New Mexico isn't known for its torrential downpours, but the inflatable raft will definitely come in handy, I'm sure."  
  
"Best to be prepared."  
  
"Says the loser."  
  
He pointed the remainder of his snack at my face and corrected, "Not a loser."  
  
I feigned pain and said, "I'm being seen with a loser."  
  
"Well, you did date Michael."  
  
My eyes widened and my mouth gaped open. I had picked up on the unpleasant vibes between Jesse and Michael, but I never imagined Jesse as the type to be openly hostile. I said, "I had no idea you harbored a mean streak. Color me impressed." I turned the volume knob up a bit louder and added, "Don't get too cocky about that compliment though. You're still not cool."  
  
"I'll have you know that I dated the captain of the cheerleading squad in my day."  
  
"Not the captain! I'll have to retract everything I said.loser!"  
  
"I was Prom King and." his voice trailed off and he slammed his hands into the steering wheel. At first, I thought he was choking on one of those snowball concoctions he had shoved in his mouth, but he was breathing perfectly. I considered asking if he was having a meltdown brought on by my tormenting him, like it was some flashback to a horrible high school experience, but before I could, he started to laugh. He pulled the car over and sat there. He hunched forward and laughed into the dashboard.  
  
"Jess-"  
  
I was interrupted by his loud chortles and before I knew what was happening, I was laughing too. It felt odd, but cathartic, as if I was able to channel out all the negative, all the strain with Michael and the anxiety over everything else, and make it disappear. Who knew pointing out Jesse's innate dorkiness would rid me of so much hostility? I would've done it a long time ago, or well, days at least.  
  
"I can't believe I was trying to convince you of my cool quotient. When did I regress to fifteen years old?" he said between laughs and we both hooted like we were at a George Carlin show rather than on the side of a desert road as the remnants of day expunged themselves from view in a car down to a quarter of a tank of gas and in the midst of a perilous situation.  
  
I brushed the tears from my eyes and replied, "I'm not sure, but this outburst further proves that you're utterly uncool."  
  
"Takes one to know one."  
  
I moved my hand over my head in a sweeping motion and said, "Such a clever retort. I thought lawyers were supposed to be acerbic not stuck in a rut known as first grade."  
  
Jesse's eyes shot off the corner of the rear-view mirror and right at me. He quickly added, "You don't want me to leave you on the side of the road. There are snakes out there."  
  
I leaned back in my seat, my eyes daring him to try, "My step-father works for the sheriff's department. Do you want him to come after you with a really big gun?"  
  
Jesse pulled the car back out onto the highway. My eyes followed the white stripe separating the lanes, mentally calculating how much paint was used for this one drive through nowhere, and he said, "That felt good."  
  
I knew exactly what he meant, but I wasn't sure I was ready to admit that. "What?"  
  
"Laughing. Normal fun. I don't remember the last time I laughed for no reason."  
  
"We were laughing because you're a looooser," I said in a singsong voice.  
  
"Well, it felt nice."  
  
I didn't say anything at first, but the stifled feeling crept back into the car, causing the hairs on my neck to stand and a strange cold to settle in my chest. I rubbed my hands together--something to do aside from burn brain fossils on thinking about the unchangeable--and tried to block away the bad. I said, "If that's the case, maybe you should rethink this finding Isabel thing."  
  
Jesse's fingers tightened around the steering wheel and his mouth made a whistling noise without moving a muscle. He darted his head from the road momentarily as if he needed visual clarification that I had spoken. He replied carefully, "I married her for better or worse. I'm not going to leave her holed up God knows where because it's not a cheery experience. That's not how relationships work, Maria."  
  
The temperature must have dropped fifty degrees within that minute. My legs began to tremble and goosebumps plagued my arms. I hugged myself, trying to act like a protective shield, and replied, "I understand that."  
  
"Do you really?"  
  
"I was trying--"  
  
"You need to figure out what you want, Maria," he stated. There was no inflection to his voice. His tone was emotionless as if he was a scientist reporting his findings to me. He caught my eye and repeated with the same indifferent sound, "I appreciate all the help you're giving me, but do yourself a favor and figure out what you want."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Do you want Michael or is it the idea of Michael that you want?"  
  
"Leave me alone, Dr. Freud."  
  
"I'm serious, Maria. Everyone will be better off once you figure out what you want and why you want it. You're here with me, but it's like you're not really here, not completely, and maybe that's because your destiny lies elsewhere."  
  
"My destiny? I'm not one of the Royal Four, Jesse. Until I left Roswell, my destiny was working as a waitress at the Crashdown. If that was what I was meant to do with my life, well, then, I guess I was a horrible dictator in a past life."  
  
"All I'm saying is you need to think about what you want, what will make you happy."  
  
Jesse's voice jumbled with Liz's voice saying the same thing. Liz's voice played out like a movie montage as inter-cuts of different conversations I had with Michael looped in my mind. It made my head hurt. Thinking. Not- thinking. It never changed. My answer was always the same. I wanted Michael, but it was damn near impossible to want him. If it wasn't shapeshifters, it was a friend's death or suffocation or relatives or inner turmoil or us. And that was the crux. There would always be the two of us to screw it up.  
  
When did I accept that sometimes wanting wasn't enough to survive on? When was I supposed to let go and find someone that might not make my blood boil but provided stability? Was there a bat signal that would flicker in the sky or the waving of the white flag in front of my face?  
  
"The two of you were made for each other," Jesse stated.  
  
I didn't look at him, tightening my wrestler's lock on myself, and replied, "Not really."  
  
"I've never seen two people more in love with one another that were so completely oblivious to it."  
  
I shook my head, "Michael and I have never been good at the icky love stuff."  
  
"Alien or not, Maria, he's a guy. He's a guy trying to protect the woman he loves--and trying to hide his insane jealousy at seeing the two of us together."  
  
I scoffed, "Jealous? Of us? That's insane." I met his dubious gaze and added, "No offense."  
  
"I'll try to overlook your flattering response and state the obvious, Maria. Love's not rational. If it were, I wouldn't be here anymore than you would be. If we allowed prudence to control the helms, I would've filed for divorce the minute Isabel told me she was an alien."  
  
"Took you for surprise, huh?"  
  
Jesse's eyes widened and he smiled, "Let's see. My wife gets shot and I can't take her to the hospital and I come to find out later that it's because she's not of this earth. Not to mention, a brother that died, but not really and a best friend that decided to eradicate the world of pesky humans because he got sick from some sort of second in command faulty wiring. Oh, and I can't forget the fact that all of this happened with the government breathing down our necks, promising to ruin my career if I didn't help them and playing on my ever-constant nightmares."  
  
I nodded and replied, "When I first found out, I ran screaming from Liz's bedroom and booked it out of the Crashdown."  
  
"You did?"  
  
I smiled, thinking back on the day when I confronted Liz about her baffling behavior. Her response had been to lean in and whisper in my ear. I expected the words drugs or felony, but never alien. I could still smell my herbal calming remedy that I practically doused myself in and feel the crisp texture of her bedroom fan slapping against my cheeks. I said, "I never knew Max, Isabel, or Michael prior to that afternoon at the Parkers' when Liz shared their story with me."  
  
"I didn't know that."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You were all so close though. I figured that you had history of friendship that surpassed--"  
  
I cut him off, "I guess nothing bonds people together like looming danger."  
  
"And you really ran screaming?"  
  
I laughed and replied, "I'm pretty sure Mr. Parker thought I had witnessed a mass killing spree in Liz's room because of the way I bolted out of there. It's not exactly news one expects to hear in a conversation--my soulmate was born with antennas. I was pretty sure Liz had lost her mind and then once she managed to convince me, well, I wasn't sure what to make of anything. Liz was so unaffected by the information and I never understood how she could be like that. Sure, that was Liz's personality, but still. I kept having nightmares that made Independence Day look like the Macy's Parade. I was terrified of what it all meant, but some part of me knew it was going to give me something I never had before."  
  
"Police chases and alien artifact mysteries?" Jesse questioned dryly.  
  
"That's it exactly. I woke up and decided that the James Bond lifestyle was for me. I mean, I'm hotter than any Bond girl and Pierce Brosnan's got nothing on Michael when he actually cuts his hair. I figured I should have some fun."  
  
"I think you answered the question, Maria."  
  
"What question?"  
  
"I could be wrong-it's been known to happen on rare occasions-but it sounds like you know what you want and why."  
  
I noticed Jesse grinning smugly out of the corner of my eye as the car turned down the Main Street of town. A large billboard welcomed us to the alien capital of the world as I clenched my hand and balled up the fabric of my shirt. I gritted out, "Your timing is uncanny. Any one ever tell you that?"  
  
If it were possible for a smug grin to grow broader, his did. He winked at me and said, "I make a rather good living based on timing, Maria."  
  
"I think I hate you, Jesse."  
  
"I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me so far."  
  
Neither of us spoke as we chugged down the road to the local gas station in the center of town. Once we pulled into the lot, Jesse went inside to pay the attendant while I started to pump the gas. I walked to the edge of the street and studied the layout. I wasn't sure why since the township of Roswell wasn't known for its desire to develop or change with the times.  
  
Sure enough everything was as I remembered it, a snapshot from my head with perfect clarity. The movie theater followed by the museum and then the Crashdown. I could make out shadows of people, mostly teenagers, filtering in and out the doors. The local Top Forty station escaped from the confines of the restaurant and an older couple grimaced at a small group of girls singing loudly as they exited the restaurant.  
  
I walked toward the place, my hands clamming up slightly and my stomach whipping my intestines into a remarkable resemblance of the Crashdown's Infamous Mashed Potatoes. All movement in my muscles ceased as I made out Mr. Parker's familiar figure. He was cleaning off a table and talking over his shoulder to someone at the counter. My eyes flashed on the gleam of a light reflecting from a hand tapping on the countertop. I squinted to get a better look, like a child attracted to the shiny object, and felt the air rush out of my lungs.  
  
Everything suddenly made some sort of perverted sense. As I stood in the early evening heat, watching the Crashdown from a safe distance and observing Scott eat his dinner while he struck up conversation with Mr. Parker, it hit me. The reason Evil Dude Number One had seemed so familiar was because I knew him. Well, more accurately, knew of him.  
  
The tattoo. The hideous scar on the face. The vacant stare that managed to run through a person like a dull blade. The guy Michael blew up had been from Roswell. When I performed at the Desert Blues Bar, I had befriended the bartender, Scott, and he would amuse me with stories of the regulars. A few of the regulars weren't locals, but truck drivers. They tended to be territorial by nature, sticking with the same locales in the same towns on every trip, and the bar was a favorite pitstop.  
  
Raymond Malone, better known as Gasher because of the hideous gash that covered half his face (not to mention the underground whisper that he had a tendency to use razors during foreplay with the ladies), worked for Congo Chemicals Company, the largest distributor in the Southwest. According to Scott, Gasher was perfectly harmless, often reminding me how rumors spread in our town, but I wasn't as easily convinced. I had the misfortune of locking eyes with him while I was performing one night and he proceeded to make me uncomfortable for the rest of the evening. I recalled seeing him a few times in Crashdown throughout the years as well, and that when I was asked by Sheriff Valenti on that fateful day when Liz was shot to describe the men, it was his face that had popped into my head.  
  
Soon after that night at the Desert Blues Bar, I moved to Boston and Gasher became a distant memory.  
  
Until he held a knife to my throat.  
  
My knees buckled out from under me and a swift hit to my side caused me to yelp out in pain or confusion, maybe a bit of both. Before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged to the side of the road as a car honked next to me as a kid shouted, "crazy bitch" and a whirlwind of debris lodged itself in my windpipe. I felt gravel underneath me as I choked for air and noticed my arm was bleeding. I silently cursed myself for such stupidity. Jesse and I had decided low key was our best option and there I was, not even in town for ten minutes and causing a scene by dawdling in the middle of the street.  
  
I brushed myself off and a hand yanked me off the ground. I looked up and smiled at the familiar silhouette peering curiously at me. I said, "Brody, you always show up in the most unexpected places."  
  
"Lucky for you," he replied, his accent stronger than I remembered. He let go of his hold on me and added, "I didn't know you were back in town, Maria."  
  
"Visiting. I needed to do some research and surprisingly Roswell was the best place to do that."  
  
"Let me guess, could it possibly have to do with conspiracy theories or alien abductions?"  
  
I nodded my head, "Maybe a little of both. My friend and I were actually going to head over to the museum once we got settled in."  
  
Brody studied my messy appearance with nervous eyes and I momentarily wondered what my life would've been like if I could've forced myself to respond to Brody's affections for me. He was a great guy--funny, smart, rich, and no hang-ups on being in a relationship--but I could never see past Michael's disheveled form long enough to even consider it.  
  
"You know you don't need an invitation, Maria. You're always welcome," he replied. He leaned in closer to me, brushing a handkerchief over my elbow, and added, "I won't even charge you the regular rate."  
  
I rolled my eyes, "It's nice to know I still rate a discount. Pardon the pun."  
  
"I'll try to overlook it," Brody responded with a huge smile. It was nice to know that some people still enjoyed brief reunions with me. He nudged me in the side gently and added, "Dare I ask what was so absorbing that you found yourself compelled to stand in the middle of the road?"  
  
I hugged him. It was one of those moments of warmth that stemmed from emotional meltdowns. The type that was never with the person you wanted it to be with, but you were so damn moved that someone still cared, it sprung out of you before you could stop it.  
  
Brody reciprocated the contact and patted my back in a soothing manner. God, why couldn't Michael take a few lessons from him? I would've settled for a high five from Michael if the mood had suited him. He pulled away and said, "That was quite the unexpected answer to my question."  
  
"That's Maria speak for it doesn't matter and it's nice to be home."  
  
"Are you staying long?"  
  
I shrugged, "Depends on how quickly my friend and I find what we're looking for."  
  
"Well, if I can be of any help, let me know."  
  
I noticed Jesse waving me down from the gas station and motioned for him to wait. I focused my attention back on Brody and said, "Actually, there's this story about a Morlagola Key that I'm trying to verify."  
  
Brody pursed his lips together tightly and I could hear him sucking in the air like it was a bong hit. His foot tapped against the sidewalk and he said, "Never heard of it."  
  
"It's connected to an amulet of some sort. Legend has it that whoever controls the key, controls the amulet," I continued, playing off the expression on Brody's face. I nodded to Jesse as he joined us and added, "Of course, the key seems to be something that nobody can control."  
  
Brody looked from me to Jesse and started to say something before stopping himself. He glanced upward and whispered, "It's not safe, Maria."  
  
"So you do know what it is?"  
  
Brody's eyes shifted over the street and his foot went from tapping to tremors. He shook his head in a negative motion and responded, "It's best left considered a legend, Maria. The myths of the Nigii creation are safest locked away in the caverns." He leaned in and hugged me before adding, "I need to get back to work." He darted off down the street toward the museum. As he reached the front door, he spun around and said, "You're still welcome any time."  
  
I attempted to ignore the bad feeling in my stomach as Brody disappeared within the confines of the building. I stared at the sparking UFO sign as the U blinked out permanently and I felt an eerie des ja vu shock my system. Brody's paranoia was wearing off on me. I found myself observing every single person on the street in a dreamlike slow motion, as if I was trapped in a bad whodunit movie and every suspect was within my peripheral vision. The wind howled out and Jesse's arm snaked around my shoulder and directed me back to the car. He was talking, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. My mind was too busy replaying Brody's response and I couldn't help but grin when it dawned on me.  
  
"That guy's a bit nutty."  
  
"You would be too if aliens kept borrowing your body to hold secret meetings," I responded defensively.  
  
Jesse shot me a perplexed look and laughed mirthlessly, "I really should stop being surprised by this sort of thing."  
  
"Won't happen. Just when you think you've seen it all, your alien ex goes Papa Smurf and starts floating," I commented, sliding into the passenger seat. I became possessed by a litterbug and pushed the junk food wrappers out the car door and onto the road. The wind scattered the trash immediately and I said, "Let's go."  
  
"And where, pray tell, are we going?" Jesse asked, stretching out across the steering wheel with a bewildered expression.  
  
"Back out onto the highway."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Didn't you hear a word Brody said?"  
  
"Yes, that it was best left," Jesse's voice trailed off. He grinned at me and I reciprocated to the best of my ability. He turned the ignition, a vroom-vroom sound echoing into the night air and intermingling with the screeching of tires that followed immediately after.  
  
I clutched my seatbelt and said, "No need to kill us, Andretti."  
  
"This is what we were hoping for."  
  
"Someone begging us to heed his words of caution?"  
  
"We can handle it."  
  
"Can we? We have no idea what we're walking into, Jesse. For all we know, Brody might not have been Brody at that moment. He could've been some alien leading us right into a trap."  
  
Jesse's eyebrows raised and he shot me a sideways glance, "Do you think that's the case?" I folded my arms as a response and he nodded, "Didn't think so."  
  
"I'm trying to play devil's advocate to keep you from getting us killed."  
  
"I don't plan to do that."  
  
"Nobody plans to do that. Have you ever seen a horror movie? There's always one idiot who thinks he's so smart and has it all figured out, but guess what?"  
  
"He doesn't."  
  
"He doesn't. He opens the wrong door and gets an ax right to the left temple," I said, smacking the side of his head for emphasis. I shot him an apologetic glare as the car jerked into the other lane and he hurried to get the car back into the right lane. I sighed, "My point is--"  
  
"That you're crazier than the alien conductor of Roswell back there."  
  
I commented, "Like you're so normal."  
  
We rode the remainder of the drive out to the caverns in silence. I studied the scenery, reminiscing on class trips and botched roadtrips with Liz and Alex back before every single thing took on a different connotation. There was a time when the crash at Roswell was nothing more than legend that locals joked about, when Indian legends revolved around spirits of rogue warriors rather than shapeshifters, and when I would think of the caverns as geographical wonders rather than eerie extraterrestrial hiding places.  
  
Jesse turned the car off the main road and parked the car behind a large mass of rocks. He jumped out of the car and popped the trunk open. I slowly forced myself out of my seat and joined him as he loaded up a backpack with a bunch of things that would be little use to us if we came up against an opposition.  
  
That was until he pulled a gun out and cocked it.  
  
I smacked his arm as he tucked the gun into his jeans and tucked his sweatshirt over it. I hissed out, "A gun? Who do you think you are? Dirty Harry?"  
  
"We need to protect ourselves."  
  
"Have you ever fired a gun before?"  
  
"Once."  
  
"That bodes well. I'm going into the dank underground with a gun-toting loon."  
  
He rolled his eyes and replied, "I'm not planning to use it, but we need to be able to protect ourselves."  
  
I crossed my arms and said, "So you said, but I maintain that a gun is more of a detriment to our well being."  
  
Jesse mimicked my stance and said, "I think that a prudent person-"  
  
"You're not trying to pass yourself off as prudent in my presence are you?" I interrupted in a jeering tone.  
  
He spoke over me, "If we have to defend ourselves, we can."  
  
"We have different ideas of what protection entails," I said.  
  
"Meaning we're at an impasse," Jesse added.  
  
"And you're going to bring the gun."  
  
He shut the trunk, slipped the straps of the backpack over his shoulders, and patted my head as he walked by. "And I'm bringing the gun." He chucked a flashlight at my face and I fumbled to catch it before it broke my nose. My fingers encircled the plastic and I glowered in his direction as he called out, "Hurry up, slowpoke. I need light."  
  
I looked upward as if heaven could offer some sort of explanation for how I found myself in this predicament. I quickened my pace until I caught up to Jesse by the entrance to the caverns. Markings from spelunkers cluttered the ground and I allowed the light to illuminate a path for us into the depths of the cavern.  
  
Jesse hopped over a small set of stalagmites and extended his hand to help me around. I groaned as I hit the ground with a thud and we both giggled like we were preteens sneaking away from the group to make out. I brushed the dirt off my jeans and reaffixed the flashlight to the area before us, only to trip over another small formation of rocks. I cursed as the flashlight fell out of my hands and skidded across the width of the cave.  
  
"Careful," Jesse offered. I always loved it when people offered nuggets of wisdom like "careful" after the person had already fallen. Where was that sage advice before I tripped?  
  
Jesse pulled me off the ground and we walked toward the light flickering from the flashlight a few yards away from us. As we approached, my foot gave out once again, but this time it wasn't klutziness that caused my lack of footing. The path suddenly dropped off and before I knew what was happening, I was plummeting. I understood what the person with the parachute that didn't work felt like. I was pretty sure that I was going to land in a huge splat. My mind flashed with questions-would Liz be okay? Was Jesse smart enough not to fall off the ledge of some sort of underground canyon? Would Michael miss me?  
  
Not that I cared about Michael anymore. In those moments, I decided that I didn't care. Okay, I cared, but I wasn't going to care anymore. Again, all lies, but I chose to humor myself.  
  
Those few seconds it took to actually hit the ground seemed much longer as it was happening. I braced myself for the pain that was sure to occur, but it didn't happen. I started to wonder exactly how far one of these things could go and scolded myself for all the times I would shush Alex when he felt compelled to share some inane fact with me. I imagined this was my punishment. I was going to fall and fall until I hit the core of the earth and spontaneously combusted.  
  
That didn't sound highly appealing to me.  
  
Dammit, why didn't I ever listen to Alex? I would still die, but at least, I'd know what was coming and wouldn't be spending my last few minutes on earth rebuking my inability to pay attention.  
  
I heard Jesse calling out to me, but I couldn't find my voice as I noticed the bottom. I squeezed my eyes shut in preparation of impact, but the shock of cold water caused them to open. I looked around, trying to get my thoughts in order and mentally verifying my limbs were in proper working order. I glanced upward, but couldn't make anything out. I looked around me and squinted into the darkness for some sort of place to lift myself out of the water.  
  
Jesse's voice echoed down to me, "Maria? Say something?"  
  
I choked out a mouthful of water and managed to shout, "I'm okay."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"In water and it's really cold."  
  
"I'm going to get some grappling. See if I can't get down to you."  
  
"Be careful," I warned as if he were an idiot, or more particularly, me. I tried to make out the outline of his face, but it was concealed in shadows, giving the whole situation a suspense thriller vibe.  
  
Jesse dangled the flashlight over the ledge and positioned the beam on the cavern wall behind me. I waved my hands around, hoping he could see me, and noticed that my actual fall had only been about two stories. He leaned his body over and yelled, "Find something to hold on to until I get back."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
The light and Jesse disappeared from my view and I tried not to think about how dire my situation was. This, of course, meant it was all that I could think about as I jumped up repeatedly trying to latch my arms around a pointy stalagmite above me.  
  
During one of my attempts, my eyes caught the reflection of a fluorescent light filtering through the rocks to my side. I decided to risk the chance of being swept away further into the cavern and swam against the current. I found myself back on dry land, or more precisely dry rock.  
  
I crawled away from the water, wringing my clothes out and resting against a wall. I noticed that the fluorescent light I had spotted was a knocked over lantern, slightly camouflaged by a bag and supplies. I wondered what sort of spelunker left goodies behind and couldn't help but guess that the person had left in an unwilling hurry. I groaned in pain as I stood myself up-trying to be brave and ignore oozing pain was tough-and kicked at the bag. There was a clanging sound. Common sense told me to wait for Jesse and we could make a decision together, but my curiosity had a stranglehold on my mental faculties and I ripped open the bag like a kid on Christmas morning.  
  
I dumped the contents on the ground and immediately discarded the granola bars and unopened can of beer. I sifted through a large number of papers, skimming the contents and chucking them aside. The last page had scribbling on it.  
  
History of the Nagi places sacred temple nearby.Morlagola key used by their Holy Gantuk until war broke out.No verifiable information, but theories suggest that Gantuk locked himself away in the caverns. He was killed and the amulet was removed.the key and the Sacred Relic were never found.most likely still in the caverns somewhere.symbols on the wall, ancient myths of visitors from other worlds, are the map to the key.  
  
Certain death to those that trespass that do not belong. Must find the chosen ones first. The answer is in the most unlikely of places, but--  
  
I stared at the page as the sentence ended right in the middle. The page had been ripped out of a notebook without the rest of it. I attempted to figure it out, but decided to let Jesse take a look once he got down there. I folded the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket. I saw a rope dance down from above and ran over to the edge of the stream. I waved up to Jesse and said, "I got out. Be careful coming down."  
  
"Says the girl that took a free fall," he muttered as he hooked himself into the safety harness. He lowered himself easily and I contemplated asking him where he learned such things. He unlocked the chains and waved it in my face. He smiled triumphantly and said, "Told you it was wise to be prepared."  
  
"I barely survived a terrible fall, a near-death experience at that, and you want to lecture me on your ingenuity?"  
  
"Yes," he said. He studied me carefully, his expression contorting into one of worry, and asked, "Are you okay? Anything hurt?"  
  
"My ego, but you'd think it'd be used to it by now," I responded dryly.  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes, "Yeah, you're fine."  
  
"I found something," I said, taking his hand and leading him to the bag.  
  
He pointed to the scattered belongings and replied, "Your work?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Nice technique."  
  
"I know. I kept thinking subtle is so."  
  
"Subtle?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"I like the broken glass along the path over there. Nice touch."  
  
"What?"  
  
"The glass."  
  
"I didn't break any glass."  
  
"It's right there, Maria," he replied, shining his flashlight on it as if I were a three-year old in desperate need of a reprimand.  
  
"Yes, but I didn't do it."  
  
"Maybe it's a booby trap," Jesse guessed.  
  
I rolled my eyes, "I think you've seen The Goonies one too many times."  
  
"You have a better idea?"  
  
"Whoever left this stuff, got out of here in a hurry. He left all his belongings and there are tracks going in three different directions as if the person was trying to throw someone off his trail."  
  
"You say he, but how do we know it wasn't this Lonnie chick?"  
  
"It could be, but I don't think so. If she were behind this, why search for a key that you gave away? Doesn't make sense."  
  
"Maybe she wanted the amulet and then planned to return for the key, but when things got hairy she bolted?"  
  
"I guess."  
  
"What do you think, Nancy Drew?"  
  
I looked around the place and shrugged, "I have no idea what we're looking for. I never got around to reading the handbook on ancient relics of doom and destruction." I flattened out the piece of paper and handed it to Jesse. I said, "I found this in the bag."  
  
Jesse handed me the flashlight and I focused it on the paper so he could see. He skimmed over the writing and said, "Is it possible for a little more vagueness? I'm not sure I've reached my fill of maybe or might be for the day." Jesse moaned in frustration, balled the paper up, and chucked it into the water. He asked no one in particular, "Is it too much to ask for a little bit of concrete evidence? Something pointing us in the right direction to prove that Isabel and the others are okay?"  
  
I kicked my foot through the other items of the bag, as if Jesse was channeling his rage through me. I reached down when I saw a torn invoice stuck to the zipper. I picked it up and ran my fingers over the Congo Chemicals monogram. I stared at it for a minute and said, "We've got one common denominator."  
  
"We do?" I showed him the paper and he stared at me skeptically, "This?"  
  
"Congo Chemicals. For some reason the name keeps popping up today."  
  
"Earl Monet's company is big business around here, Maria. The name pops up everywhere."  
  
"You know the owner?"  
  
Jesse shook his head and I watched his eyes divert direction. "Know of. He was involved in a highly publicized case a few years ago. Accused of using caverns for dumping his hazardous materials rather than spending the money to recycle them properly."  
  
"So one could assume that if the theories on this Gantuk-thing are correct, maybe Monet got his hand on the amulet and key."  
  
"Not likely. He doesn't strike me as an avid explorer, but any one of his numerous drivers might have a remarkable knowledge of these caves," Jesse said, bending down and studying the remnants of the bag. He unzipped one of the side compartments and pulled out a large bowl that appeared to be made out of metal, but not one that I'd ever seen before. It looked like a serving dish with two handles on opposite ends. Each one had a different design-one was an outline of fire and water, while the other was a bolt of lightening-and both were adorned with purple jewels.  
  
I said, "This must go with the key and amulet."  
  
"We don't know that," Jesse stated.  
  
"Well, it's ugly enough. Those Morlagolians really knew tacky, didn't they?"  
  
"Fair point, but still, I'm not convinced."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"It could be a camper's cooking utensils."  
  
"Interesting choice. Camping utensils? I'm particularly fond of the small eye decoration on the bottom. I know I'd want to see that while I was eating my cheerios," I said, tapping my finger on the inside of the bowl.  
  
Jesse affixed the flashlight on the eye before moving the light along its surface and studying every inch of the metal. He put the flashlight between his knees and ran his hands over the edges methodically. He had a manner to his movements that made it seem like he knew what he was doing, as if this wasn't the first strange metal he stumbled upon his day. Jesse said, "There's some sort of writing on it, but I can't make out what it says."  
  
I grabbed the bowl from his hand and held it up, trying to make out the words. The problem was that the few letters I could see didn't form any words that I knew, so trying to guess was damn near impossible. I replied, "Why the hell would someone leave this behind?" I peered around the empty corridors verifying that Jesse and I were still the only inhabitants in the near vicinity. Something about this bowl freaked me out and I couldn't ignore the strange sensation that we were in trouble. I motioned for Jesse to take the bowl and as his hand grasped onto the other handle, a blue light shot out of it in similar fashion to the key with Michael.  
  
"Uh-oh," I said.  
  
"I think we triggered something."  
  
"Really? I thought maybe it liked us!"  
  
"Maria, this is not the time for sarcasm."  
  
More light flew out of the bowl and the strange eye decoration opened, blinking several times in a row. I shrieked, "This is the perfect time for sarcasm!"  
  
We both dropped the bowl simultaneously and it made a loud clanging sound as sparks of purple and blue blasted out of its center. The handles seemed to come alive, the flames filled with red coloring and the lightening imprint flashed as if there was an actual storm occurring on the handle. The bowl skated across the ground and crashed into a small rock formation. When it hit the rock, it didn't stop moving. It seemed to hover there, getting a feel for its location.  
  
I glanced at Jesse to make sure I wasn't having a delayed reaction to my fall. I tried to convince myself that maybe this was a hallucination caused by a concussion, but the look on Jesse's face didn't bode well. I now understood what the glass that littered the floor was caused by. We weren't the first victims to this flying bowl from another universe.  
  
I momentarily thought about Michael (I know, I know. I'm weak. I think about him even when I'm really not thinking about him-hopeless!) and could almost see a bastard I-told-you-so look on his face as he stood over my lifeless body. Michael was right and I should've known better than to come here.  
  
Damn Jesse.  
  
There wasn't much time to ponder the fact that Jesse was the bane of my existence. The bowl seemed to lock its evil eye (literally) on us and sputtered forward. I pointed at the bowl and said, "That can't be good."  
  
"Definitely not."  
  
"We might want to run."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But for some reason, my legs aren't working."  
  
Jesse and I looked at each other again and he grabbed my hand, yanking me along behind him. We ran through the small corridor, but before we knew what was happening the bowl had flown over us and stopped. It floated in the air and the eye at its bottom opened further. A huge green light came out of it and I tightened my hold on Jesse's hand.  
  
For the second time in less than an hour, I expected a gruesome demise and wondered if anyone would even think to look for Jesse and myself. I shut my eyes, holding onto Jesse with a death grip, but nothing happened.  
  
I cracked open one eye. I looked at Jesse, who also had his eyes shut and wore a panicked expression, and then glanced to where the light was coming from. As I turned my head, I noticed that the bowl was now right in front of my face.  
  
My other eye opened and I stared at the bowl. It felt like it was studying me. I tried to identify the common sense part of my brain that told me that inanimate objects didn't have keen observation skills and that logically bowls didn't fly. Of course, the bowl moved in a little bit closer and dropped into my hands, leaving me with the distinct impression that I was not imagining things.  
  
The light went out and the handles turned back to a metallic coloring.  
  
I elbowed Jesse in the ribs and I said, "What the hell happened?"  
  
"I'm thinking you were right. That's definitely related to the Morlagola key."  
  
"The Morlagola Key can be a great ally or a great foe," a voice echoed through the cavern.  
  
I glanced at Jesse and said, "No chance you've taken up ventriloquism in the past few minutes is there?" Jesse shook his head and I added, "Yeah, wishful thinking on my part."  
  
"You are the possessor of the Holy Gantuk's sacred relic of the Nagi," the voice said.  
  
I spun around, trying to locate where the voice was coming from and Jesse's hand instinctively reached for the gun. He pulled it out and waved it in the air. He called out, "Who's there?"  
  
"Do not fear. She has been chosen worthy."  
  
I pointed to myself and hollered out, "Me? Oh no. I'm not worthy. Really."  
  
My words echoed throughout the cavern and the bowl once again hovered in front of my face. The eye opened and shut a few times as if it was memorizing me for some creepy reason. Before I could shriek, the voice said, "The sacred relic of the Nagi will protect you for as long as you require or until it is no longer under your control. It will keep you safe from those that wish to use the key and amulet for cruel purposes."  
  
"Who's there?" Jesse's repeated.  
  
I threw my hand over my eyes and pointed at the bowl. I said, "I think the bowl is doing the talking."  
  
"That would be correct."  
  
The gun slipped out of Jesse's hand and hit the ground. His eyes shifted from me to the bowl and back again, "We're having some weird group dream thing."  
  
The bowl zapped up and over, flying around Jesse's head. It said, "The map of the Gantuk will lead you to the answers to your questions."  
  
"Map?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact that I was having a conversation with a bowl. I patted down my jacket pockets, hoping I had a vile of one of my herbal remedy, but the only thing there was my cellphone. Useless. I was useless. Why couldn't I be more like Jesse the Boy Scout and have something for every occasion? I mean, I couldn't exactly call Sheriff Valenti and tell him to save me from a flying bowl. Despite all the craziness we had seen in the past couple of years, I was pretty sure he would have me committed.  
  
"The friends you search for, the men who attempt to thwart you, answers you need--those are the things that only the map can provide," the voice said. It circled my body and rested on my shoulder. My eyes instinctively shut and it whispered, "You were chosen for this journey many a year ago."  
  
"I think you're a bit confused," I commented.  
  
"The Meddecchi will hunt you now. The boy has unleashed the key. It's searching for a home. If you do not reclaim the amulet and the key to put to rest, he will surely perish."  
  
"Come again?" I replied.  
  
"The key will take his life if it is not returned to its partners soon."  
  
"Could you define soon?"  
  
"A fortnight."  
  
I felt everything whoosh out of my system with a quick jerk. My hands betrayed my brave facade and started shaking. I tried to block out the taunting voice that felt it necessary to replay the words of doom over and over. I managed to glance at Jesse hoping he could provide me with some support--a look of disbelief or worry at my obvious breakdown. I wanted an expression that said, "Told you not to try that ecstasy this morning" but unfortunately his face was contorted in one of horror and disbelief mixed with a heavy dose of pity for me. And I knew it was true. If we didn't find the amulet and get it to Michael, he was going to die, and I had no idea how I was supposed to stop it. This wasn't my area of expertise. I didn't make plans to save the world or fix problems. Quite frankly, I was pretty sure that the stupid bowl had made a mistake. This was the sort of thing destined to happen to Max, Liz, or hell, even Michael, but not me. I was the bystander. The fun girl that tried to help out occasionally.  
  
As if it read my mind, it said, "This is your journey to take. You have been chosen and you must see it through."  
  
"What if I don't want to?"  
  
"This was predetermined long ago."  
  
"Splendid."  
  
"It will not be easy, but the sacred relic will offer its assistance to you as much as possible. It is filled with many unexpected answers that will identify themselves when the time arises."  
  
Jesse rolled his eyes, "Again, the vague thing."  
  
"I'm finding it hard to believe this ugly thing was ever considered a sacred relic myself," I commented.  
  
"I could deal with ugly if it would stop speaking in riddles," Jesse countered.  
  
The bowl zoomed off my shoulder and rested itself on the ground in front of Jesse. Another green light flashed upward and I hissed, "You had to upset it, didn't you?"  
  
The light slowly transformed into the image of a strange creature. It stared at us for a moment before bowing and stating, "It is a great honor to be before the carrier of the sacred relic of the Nagi."  
  
"Okay. My plummet off the cliff actually killed me and this is hell," I said to no one in particular.  
  
"What's my excuse?" Jesse asked.  
  
I shrugged, "Maybe you're flat-out nutty."  
  
"Protectors of the sacred relic of the Nagi, I must pay you this warning. The Meddecchi knows of my existence and knows you have found me. Its tools connect you and the Meddecchi, making each vulnerable to the other. The Meddecchi will not fight fairly to get what it wants. It will use all options available. You must heed my words and prepare to take your place as it was prophesized."  
  
Jesse looked over his shoulder as if he expected this Medda-freaky thing to be standing right behind ready to sneak up and say, "Boo". Jesse shot me a dubious look and asked, "Are you saying that this Meddecchi knows where we are?"  
  
"Not precisely."  
  
"What does that mean?" he asked.  
  
"Eventually it will find you and we must be prepared. I was sealed away for centuries to be revealed to the chosen few when the time came for the Holy Gantuk to arise once again."  
  
"The Gantuk will arise?" I asked. I looked at Jesse and said to him, "That can't be good."  
  
"It is not," The hologram answered. He took a step toward us and clasped its hands together. "The Gantuk chose domination of other worlds over the true purpose of the amulet. He brought a great despair upon the lands until the Nagi warriors managed to overthrow him. He was unable to hold onto the amulet and relic in his quick escape. Without those to balance the power of the key, he was sucked him into oblivion and the key buried itself within these caverns."  
  
"So the Gantuk never really died?"  
  
"I am afraid not. If all the pieces are once again connected, he will return, but his fate will lie in the hands of the possessor."  
  
"And the Meddecchi is attempting to harness the energy through the amulet?" I asked.  
  
"Correct, but it can only work with the key."  
  
"Yes, got that. Key unleashes the power."  
  
"The key, the amulet, and the relic work together with the map. The three sacred pieces form the Holy Trinity and are extremely powerful to whoever yields the force within. The Nagi people feared a resurrection of the Gantuk. Each piece was hidden in a separate cavern for its ruler to reclaim; unfortunately, a man stumbled upon the sacred temple six months ago. He knew of the key and he attempted to take the relic."  
  
"A man?"  
  
"The trinity knows not of this man for he was never prophesized. However, he opened up the temple and began the process."  
  
Jesse leaned in next to me and gritted out through his teeth, "Congo Chemicals, most likely."  
  
"Is this man working for the Meddecchi?"  
  
"I do not know, but it is most likely. He was not a man to be trusted. He tried to harness the relic's power, but was not able to make it work. The trinity cannot worry about the man. If the Meddecchi gets to the map and key first, we will be overpowered. Although the sacred relic of the Nagi is the strongest of the three, with control of two of the three, we will be unable to stop the Meddecchi. It will hunt you down and destroy you, taking the last piece of the puzzle for its own purposes. There are few that can work the holy trinity, but the Meddecchi is one of those. We must not let that happen. It must be returned to its rightful heir and put to rest once and for all."  
  
"Max? The Gantuk? Who?"  
  
The hologram shook its head and pointed to me, "You."  
  
I laughed, "I don't think so. I'm a complainer, not a doer."  
  
It didn't seem impressed by my glib take on things. It shook its head, long ears flapping with it, and said, "You were able to open the relic. You would not have been able to do such a thing if you were not a chosen heir."  
  
"I'm human and you are-"  
  
"There was a time when such things mattered very little," the hologram replied. It stepped a few inches away from the bowl, placing its feet on the ground. It continued, "You are the only one that can help your friends. Trouble has found them already and they will never be able to control the Morlagola key. It has gone into its defensive mode, sending out beacons that will attract the evilest of creatures to its core and killing any that are not meant to wear it."  
  
"He tried to take it off, but it-"  
  
"It can only be removed by the chosen ones unless--"  
  
"Unless?" I prompted.  
  
"Unless he is dead."  
  
"No. What if I say it's okay for him to wear it? I trust Michael."  
  
"You should trust no one. They will be used against you before this journey is over."  
  
"I trust Michael."  
  
"People are not who they seem to be, master. There will be betrayal. You must remember that Brutus was Caesar's friend before joining in on his demise."  
  
"What the hell does that mean?"  
  
"Greed and power can not be satiated by some. To them there is never enough and they will destroy anyone, even those they consider friend."  
  
"Again with the huh?" I replied.  
  
"I am afraid that you must discover that in your own time."  
  
"I want you to spare Michael."  
  
"That is not how it works. I do not make such decisions. I am merely a messenger, a guide if you choose to follow your destiny."  
  
"If I am the only one who can control this thing, then I want Michael spared. I want the key off him now! " I demanded.  
  
"No one can control it."  
  
"But you said-"  
  
"You may harness the energy once the other pieces have been obtained and returned to their temple, but not before then. The key is the final piece of the puzzle. Add it too soon and the answer will be unattainable. There is only one way to save your friend."  
  
"How do I know I can trust you?"  
  
"I have no reason to lie, master. I am not from the living realm and therefore am not led by needs outside my purpose."  
  
"Oh. Right. Of course. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it, Jesse?" I replied unremittingly.  
  
"I'm still trying to process the dead thing," Jesse admitted.  
  
I glared at him and said to the creature, "What must I do then?"  
  
"Have you accepted your predetermined path?"  
  
"I don't know about that, but I won't let Michael die."  
  
If it was possible for non-living-creatures-slash-holograms to sigh in annoyance, I was pretty sure that was what it had done. It said without overture, "There will be a time when you will find yourself at a fork in the road. You must trust that the answer is before you at all times. You must have faith in yourself and in the power you possess. Otherwise you will fail and dark days will be upon us all."  
  
"And how do I go about this?"  
  
"We must utilize the compass and map. Both shall lead us to the answers."  
  
"The map?"  
  
"It is hidden in an unlikely place."  
  
"Of course. Wouldn't want it to be easy to find," I commented.  
  
The hologram stepped away from the sacred relic of the Nagi (aka ugliest bowl ever made) completely and began walking further down the corridor of the caverns. It turned to us and said, "You will want to keep the relic tied to you at all times."  
  
I nodded and picked up the bowl. The handles burned into my skin. It wasn't painful, as much as a strange, tingling sensation. Jesse stepped in front of me and asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm following it."  
  
"Is that a good idea, Maria?"  
  
"We don't have much choice, do we? If we don't handle this, Michael's going to die and I'm not about to let that happen."  
  
"How do we know this isn't a trick? How do we know that Michael won't die anyhow?"  
  
"You're a real comfort," I muttered.  
  
"You do not, sir. The relic will serve any of the rightful owners, no matter what purposes they intend for it. I am indifferent to the outcome, obligated to serve the controlling master. However, I can say this most certainly-your wife will not be spared if the protector is not successful. The process has already begun."  
  
"No pressure or anything," I mumbled, kicking a pebble by my shoe.  
  
"What process? And how do you know about Isabel?" Jesse questioned.  
  
The creature smiled strangely, "I exist outside time and dimensions. I am not bound to any galaxy, century, or loyalty."  
  
"But you said that-"  
  
The hologram cut Jesse off. It pointed to me and said, "She is the one who found me first of the chosen few. I provide nothing more than a blueprint of past memory that she needs to access. If I were to fall into the Meddicchi's hands, I would aid it as well."  
  
"Why should we listen to you?"  
  
"Jesse," I tried to interrupt. It immediately struck me that I was attempting to thwart a fight between Jesse and a hologram. When did this become my life? Would I even recognize normal any more?  
  
The hologram disappeared in a flash of smoke. In its place, an image projected on the wall of the cavern. It was Liz and Isabel.  
  
"It'll be okay," Liz whispered, trying to move her chair closer to Isabel. Her hair was a short reddish color that I imagined probably suited her under normal circumstances. At the moment, it was mangy and oily, from days of no management. Her bottom lip was swollen and it matched the bruises on Isabel's cheek.  
  
Isabel shook her head, "They're going to kill them. I saw it."  
  
"You're imagining things."  
  
"Why are you saying that? Have they gotten to you?"  
  
Liz patted her friend's leg comfortingly and said, "You're hysterical, Isabel. You need to calm down and tell me what's happening. Max will bring the key and we'll be let go. That's what they want, right?"  
  
"No, no, no," Isabel sobbed. Her eyes moved quickly over the room as if she knew that their conversation was being listened in on. She said, "He will rise, won't he?"  
  
Liz smiled reassuringly, "Everything will work out." She patted Isabel's leg again as she struggled against her words. Liz said, "I saw this, Isabel. I saw us here and we survive. We just have to hang in there. You have to trust me with what you've been keeping to yourself. Tell me what's going on with this key."  
  
"I can't, Liz. I can't! He's going to die. I know you saw it too! They're both going to die and it's our fault."  
  
"No one is going-"  
  
"Lonnie knows. She saw it too and that's why she gave us that stupid key. We would be safe it weren't for her!" Isabel sobbed.  
  
"Max will find us, Isabel."  
  
"Not if they get to him. They have ways."  
  
"They won't."  
  
"They got us. They'll get him and then the others. And once they've got all of us, they're going to kill them! It's too late. Too late and there's no hope." Liz stared at her as if she were trying to read Isabel's mind. Isabel's eyes shut against the intensity of Liz's line of vision and mumbled in an exhausted tone, her words nothing more than exaltations, "No hope."  
  
The image faded away and the hologram reappeared. It stepped closer and said, "Their fate is in your hands."  
  
"Where are they?"  
  
"Hidden away."  
  
"Do you know where?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Then tell us," Jesse demanded.  
  
"That is not the way it works."  
  
"What if Maria asks?"  
  
"My master has not asked though."  
  
The eyes of both Jesse and the hologram landed on me. I said, "Oh, fine, I'll play along. Where are my friends?"  
  
"Which ones, Master? The bearer of the key or the girls?"  
  
"Both."  
  
"The bearer of the key has left New York and begun a trek in search of their missing comrades. His energy is slowly depleting and soon he will not be much use to anyone. He has already been found. The only reason he has not been taken is because the key will soon bring his end about. He has been left to die so that the Meddecchi can get its hands on the key."  
  
Jesse's arm went around my shoulders instinctively as if he knew that my legs were about to give out at the thought. He asked, "And Isabel?"  
  
The hologram looked at him, but did not respond. I groaned in frustration, "And Liz and Isabel?"  
  
"They are here, but we may be too late."  
  
"We saw them a second ago! They were banged up, but okay. We're not too late if you take us to them," Jesse shouted.  
  
"There are different variations of okay, sir."  
  
"Where are they?" I asked.  
  
"On the old Nagi grounds. Hidden from plain sight. You will need the map to locate them."  
  
"Are you saying they're invisible?" I said. I heard the words and chuckled, "Why am I surprised by that part?" I focused on the hologram and said, "Will you help us find the map?"  
  
"I will help you with whatever you require, master."  
  
"So where do we start?"  
  
"Within the depths of the cavern," it said. It walked ahead of us down a long, narrow corridor.  
  
I could hear the squeaking sound of bats and shook my head, "No way."  
  
"You must, master."  
  
I rolled my eyes, "Stop with the master crap." I studied the passageway and asked, "Isn't there any easier way?"  
  
"Are you sure, master?" the hologram asked, peering at me curiously.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Take your friend's hand and hold onto the lightening handle with the other," the hologram stated.  
  
I shot a suspicious look in its direction, but took a hold of Jesse's hand anyhow. He shot me a you-better-know-what-you're-doing look and practically squeezed the muscle out of my palm. Within seconds of our connection, we were enveloped in a whirlwind of blue and purple hues. It was like being stuck in some strange concoction that blended an out of control Tilt-A-Whirl with a trippy cartoon tunnel from the seventies. It was making me sick and I tried to clutch my stomach, but the hologram's voice boomed out, "Do not release your grip or he will be lost, master."  
  
Within seconds, our feet landed on ground. We were still in the caverns, underneath an underground waterfall. The sounds of our breaths intermingled with the water rushing down into the small reservoir that resided next to us. It reminded me of my mother's new age relaxation tapes that often filtered throughout our rancher when I was younger and a strange calm overtook me. For the first time in days, there was stillness in my bones.  
  
The hologram tapped my shoulder, ruining the atmosphere, and I nearly fell into the water from surprise. Jesse caught me and I snapped at the creature, "Don't do that again. Jesus, give me a heart attack, why don't you?"  
  
"It is over here, Master," the hologram stated.  
  
A fluorescent green light illuminated through an opening in the side of the cavern wall. It appeared to be an altar and above it on the ceiling were some sort of hieroglyphics. Most of the designs made no sense, except for one. There was a creature with a huge medallion hanging from its neck holding a bowl in one hand and the amulet in the other. A huge flash of lightening seemed to lunge right into the creature's chest and there was an inscription in some language.  
  
Nasfarat medulica.  
  
I tried to pronounce the words and as I did, the ground below us shook. Jesse reached out and grabbed me before I fell into a small opening that was slowly spreading toward us. Rocks started to fall and the ground continued to tremble. Jesse rolled his eyes and said, "And you mocked me for comparing this to The Goonies."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"I'm just-"  
  
"We've got bigger problems at the moment so spare me the 'I told you so' please!" I said, trying to back away from the enlarging opening in the ground. I noticed the hologram standing there with no worries and demanded, "Fix this now."  
  
"Very well," it said, snapping its long, bony fingers together.  
  
Jesse and I floated down the opening and landed in a small room. There were sets of chairs and rock tables. There was a small aisle between the sets and it led to another altar, but this one was much larger than the other and it was covered in more symbols.  
  
The hologram stepped through the altar and said, "Place the relic on the table."  
  
I nodded and stepped up to it cautiously. I kept my hands on the bowl as I placed it in a small opening in the altar. Sparks once again flew from the bowl and the ceiling swirled around depicting a portrait of stars.  
  
The hologram stepped next to me and said, "You must memorize the map."  
  
I pointed up to the ceiling, "You want me to memorize that? Are you kidding me?"  
  
"I do not kid, master."  
  
"Can't I make you memorize it for me?"  
  
"That would not be wise, master. If I fall into the wrong hands-"  
  
"If you fall into the wrong hands, you're going to bring them here anyway, so you might as well memorize the thing."  
  
The hologram frowned and replied, "Very well." Its eyes roamed over the ceiling and after a second, it said, "It has been recorded. I feel I must remind you that you have made your enemy's job easier."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"This may affect the outcome of things, master. The desire to rule is greater than any to save."  
  
"Yes, I know. The otherworldly medallion is a must for every alien totalitarian regime."  
  
"I do not understand, Master."  
  
I folded my arms, "I told you to stop with the master thing. It's irritating. I'd also like you to stop reminding me of the pending evil that plans to eradicate my existence. I don't know how things work where you come from, but it's not exactly the picker-upper I need to get me through the next few days."  
  
"As you wish."  
  
My eyes roamed around the room for a minute and I tried to assemble some sort of plan. I stated, "We need to get my friends back. All of them."  
  
"I do not foresee any problem there. If you do not find them, the Meddecchi will make sure that they find you."  
  
"Well, I'd rather be the one in control of that situation," I said. I ran my fingers over the bowl and asked, "Where are Liz and Isabel?" The hologram lengthened in height and reached into the ceiling of stars. He pulled something out. When he dropped it into my hands, I realized it was a pair of glasses. I rolled my eyes, "Of course. Why didn't I think of it before? Glasses that see through invisibility. How very Wes Craven of the Nagi people."  
  
Jesse walked up to me and the wall went blank. He asked me, "Any luck?"  
  
"We need to get to Liz and Isabel. I have a feeling Isabel will be able to tell us who the Meddecchi is."  
  
Jesse said, "If you help me get Isabel back, I'll help you save Michael."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Hey, I might not like the guy, but I don't want him dead. He's important to Isabel and to you, which means I'll do what I can."  
  
"I'm not sure where to go from here."  
  
Jesse leaned in and said, "Tell it where to take us next."  
  
I sighed, trying to put together one logical thought, but it was impossible. The hologram had said that everything that happened had been destined, but somehow that seemed even more ridiculous than the idea that Michael was my soulmate. I forced my mind not to drift. Once everything was done, once I knew Liz was safe and that Michael wouldn't die, I could overanalyze my broken psyche. Until then.  
  
I put the glasses on, took Jesse's hand, and directed my attention to the hologram. It smiled at me and I returned the action weakly before ordering, "Take us to the Nagi Grounds. Do you have a name?"  
  
"I do not, master."  
  
"Well, I'm going to call you Gram. If I keep referring to you as an it, I'll go crazy and that would be bad."  
  
"Whatever you desire," Gram responded. He clapped his hands together and said, "The journey is now underway. There is no turning back from this point on. You must see it through, no matter what lies ahead or who does not survive."  
  
I refused to ponder the threatening inferences to Gram's words and forced myself to ignore the grinding sensation in my chest. Instead, I grinned at Jesse and said, "I could get used to this 'whatever you desire' bit."  
  
"Just what the world needs-Maria the Great," Jesse commented as we were once again encircled in a whirlwind of colors. 


	7. Part Seven: The Tunnel

**Part Seven - The Tunnel**

At some point in our lives we all want to be special. We all desire the opportunity to be the person who walks into a room and whom everyone immediately notices and says, "Hey, isn't that so-and-so? I'm a huge fan of hers." And even though most of us know that the only real shot we have at achieving anything like this is through hard work and diligence, we all secretly dream that one day we'll sit down at a piano and miraculously produce a concerto of Chopin magnitude or pick up a paintbrush and replicate the genius of the _Last Supper_. There is something about being the center of attention, the go-to girl, which is inherently appealing to all of us. It never happens that way though and that's why most of our closets contain one abandoned violin or sketchpad at some point or another. Life is never that generous, or it isn't supposed to be, according to my grandparents. 

That was what was so surprising about my current predicament. 

I had always been a girl known more for her associations rather than her own strengths. Long before the alien trio entered my life, there was Liz and Alex and even my mother to contend with. People with a niche in the world already carved out for them-a future beckoning to them. Then Max, Isabel, and Michael entered the picture and I was totally screwed. 

You see, the truth of the matter wasI was nothing out of the ordinary. I wasn't drop-dead gorgeous nor was I borderline brilliant. I wasn't born into a well-to-do family and had spent the majority of my teenage years working to help scrape by. And I definitely wasn't from another planet or cultivating newly acquired alien powers brought on by near-death experiences. The one thing that had always set me apart-my musical abilities-seemed to be a talent that was a dime a dozen. I mean, I had a good voice, but there were a lot of people who could carry a tune, and I needed to accept my undistinguished fate. 

I was average. 

I attempted to ignore my own personal void by constructing a life that revolved around my friends. After all, they were my friends and they needed me. _They depended on me. _I managed to convince myself that if their destinies were of immense importance, my assistance was a significant contribution to the universe. I thought existing vicariously through my friends would validate my own lack of purpose, but in the end, I was unable to conceal the vacuum eating away at me and I was inundated with an influx of doubt. 

I developed a bit of a complex, a poster girl for self-esteem issues everywhere. I became convinced that my ideas were never clever enough, that my bravery was never courageous enough, and that my actions were never succinct enough. I realized that no matter how hard I tried to fit in with my friends-to bring something unique to our group-it would never be right. I would never relate to them on their level or understand the stigma of being special. 

I resented each of them after awhile and slowly went through a list of ways to separate myself from my friends. I tried to shirk off any role in the crises as they arose, but alien problems were like quicksand. I thought breaking up with Michael would make me feel like I had some control in my life or provide me with a sense of importance in some way, but I only felt worse. He was an integral part of who I was and I didn't know how to exist without him. And when nothing else worked, I decided that not going with them, staying behind and living my own life, was the answer I had been looking for. We all knew how well that had turned out. 

I had come to terms with the fact that average wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but being confronted by Michael's abrasiveness once again made my self-assurance flutter away to distant lands. In my friends' presence, whether they meant to or not, my actions seemed arbitrary and I belittled myself for every idea running through my brain. I was fine-tuned to the distinctions between us and knew that helping my friends would never be enough. I would remain a dime a dozen as people went and it was a wrong fit for them. 

Then suddenly, within the confines of one afternoon, I discovered that I wasn't normal. A hologram prattled on about my importance in the scheme of the universe and the only coherent thought in my head was "now I fit in with my friends." Surely, something was wrong with me. Some unearthly creature that placed survival of the world on my shoulders accosted me and I could barely contain my excitement at finally belonging. 

I was one of a select few and it was a sensation that I wasn't used to. I couldn't fathom how any of this was possible, let alone allow the idea to penetrate my thick skull. I battled with every notion of unworthiness inside of me, silently cursing myself for being somewhat happy about this sudden revelation _(Who doesn't want to hear that they are the chosen one by a talking bowl?)_, and tried to make sense of it all. 

If I had learned anything in my time as an alien groupie, it was that things simply happened. There was no planning, no questioning, and no garnering nuggets of wisdom from past events that could prepare me for the inevitable bizarre encounter. I had to make the best of what I had, even if it was in the shape of Gram, servant to the quickest hunter out there. 

"I feel like one of those cartoon characters with the big eyes that circle in their sockets to prove dizziness," Jesse remarked as our feet gently thudded onto solid ground. He let go of my hand and bent over, swallowing back guttural sounds, before he muttered, "Let's drive from now on." 

I patted his back and replied in my best maternal tone, "Poor Jesse has motion sickness." 

He straightened his back, regaining his height over me, and countered, "I do not suffer from motion sickness under normal circumstances. However, that was not your typical mode of transportation-it was like the Tilt-A-Whirl from hell." 

I caught Gram staring at us with a bemused expression. His tiny arms were crossed, mimicking my current stance, and he watched our every movement carefully, most likely notating it for future reference. My eyes roamed around our arrival point-the middle of the desert. The ground beneath us was a dark red, as if it had been baked to the point of sunburn and the twilight reflected on shiny stones littering the rocky terrain. The stones appeared to form a path that led straight into the center of a much larger rock formation. 

According to Gram, Isabel and Liz were being held on the Nagi ruins, but where was that exactly? I attempted to gain knowledge of our current location by sifting through my memory, but to no avail. I had no clue where we were and couldn't recall ever wandering this far into the badlands of New Mexico. 

I pushed the sunglasses, which rested on top of my head, down to cover my eyes when I noticed Gram's fluorescent orbs practically piercing through the frames. I shut my eyes to prepare my retinas for the additional darkness, but when I reopened my eyes, everything appeared exactly the same as before. I scoured the landscape for some sort of signal that Jesse and I were in the right spot, but againnothing. 

"Do you see them?" 

"No." 

Jesse fell to the ground with a loud huff and threw one of the stones into the vast unknown. When it landed, it created a cloud of dust that resembled pictures from the Atom Bomb testing and a tornado of dirt encircled us. 

I coughed out, "Idiot." 

Jesse pointed at Gram as if to alleviate his culpability and said, "He's the one that led us to a dead-end." 

"You are not looking hard enough, Master." 

I sighed, "What did I say about the Master crap, Gram? It's weird, even by my standards." 

"And it's swelling your already enlarged ego," Jesse quipped. He stood up, brushed the dirt off his legs, and stepped over next to me. He went to remove the glasses from my face, but a blue spark zapped him in the hand. 

I jumped back and he crumpled over in pain. Once we established that no appendages had been lost and that we were both still in one piece, we simultaneously twisted around to face Gram. Gram's face was a portrait of indifference as if blue sparks striking into flesh was an every day occurrence. 

Jesse jumped up, "What the hell was that?" 

"And why do I suddenly resemble a taser gun?" I added. When Gram didn't answer quickly enough for my liking, I questioned, "Are these evil glasses? Am I going to wake up with a tail in the morning? I don't recall signing on for any permanent disfigurements, Gram!" 

"You can remove the glasses at any time. You must keep them close though; as I told you in the temple, they act as your compass." 

"Why did it trigger fireworks like the demon key-" 

If it was possible, Gram shot me a bored look, as if to say "stupid humans never understand anything." He snapped his fingers and the glasses disappeared from my head only to reappear seconds later in his hand. Gram replied, "As I have explained to you, the key is not evil. It is merely an instrument to connect with the higher power of the universe." 

I folded my arms and held out my hand for the glasses. When Gram didn't move, I coughed to signal that I wanted the pair back. When he still didn't grasp what I was hinting at, Jesse blurted out, "For god's sake, give her the glasses back!!" 

Gram nodded and snapped his fingers again. The glasses materialized on my face moments later. I reached up and touched the frames hesitantly. I asked, "You're sure the glasses won't eat my flesh or something equally revolting?" 

"They will not. The flash was a warning, for he is not a chosen one," Gram replied, focusing a reproachful glance on Jesse. "It would be wise for him to not be so hasty in the future. Impatience leads to danger." 

I couldn't help but smirk in Jesse's direction. Our relationship bordered on bizarre. We had never been friends, let alone close, but now I felt as though he understood me better than most people out there. Jesse was my sidekick on this crazy journey and with that title came my inalienable right to mock, maim, and torment. I wagged my finger in his face, emitting a tsk, tsk sound into the desert sky, and replied, "That's right, Jesse. Impatience is a big 'ole no, no." 

"Says the girl that was vehemently opposed to walking through a cave." 

"That was completely different! It wasn't because I was impatient. There were _bats_, Mr. Let's-Race-Out-To-Roswell-with-the-last-bit-of-money-we-had-left. _You're _the reason I am in this mess, talking to a hologram about tyrannical rulers from other realms with the possibility of growing a tail!" 

"Master, you will not--" 

Jesse waved him off and tried to explain, "It's best to humor her when she gets like this, Gram. She needs to rant--it's how she knows she's still breathing." 

"Nuh-uh," I offered unenthusiastically. I kicked at the dirt, hoping to find a bright light flashing "THIS WAY" beckoning to me. There was no beckoning. Not even a breadcrumb. Just Gram, the human/dog hybrid _(as far as I could make out) _and Jesse, the annoying one. I muttered, "You're one to talk." 

His face contorted with faux innocence and he asked, "How?" 

"How? Says the man that made me listen to his ridiculous rehearsal speeches on our way back to this god forsaken town," I replied. I clutched my chest, made my eyes as pathetic as possible, and attempted to mimic Jesse's voice as I recited from memory, "Oh Isabel, I need you! Isabel, I need you because you are my soul and you complete me and make me--" 

He reached out and placed his hand over my mouth, "You can stop now." 

I pushed his hand away and said, "You're the big brother I never wanted." I sighed and added, "Not only did I find out that my friends might die, but also that there's the possibility that I'll end up resembling Gram--" I paused and shot an apologetic glance in Gram's direction, "Not that you're ugly or anything, Gram." I focused back on Jesse and faked a cry, "You're mean." 

Jesse rolled his eyes, "If you're done with this abuse of self pity, I'd like to remind you that this was apparently your destiny." 

"Whatever, Mr. Impetuous." 

"Drama Queen." 

"Idiot Savant." 

"While the two of you quarrel, time is quickly dwindling for your loved ones. You must concentrate on your duties to the relic." 

"Thank you, Obe Wan," I retorted. I rubbed my temples and added, "But Gram's right. I'll stop pointing out that you're a pest." I grinned at Jesse and stuck my tongue out before turning my back to him. I strained my neck around to search for evidence of the hiding place's proximity. 

Jesse placed his hand on my shoulder and asked, "What do you see?" 

"Nothing." 

"Focus Maria." 

"And here I was considering taking a nap," I huffed, moving away from Jesse and walking down the lane of stones. Jesse took a few steps in my direction, but halted when I motioned for him to wait where he was. The large rock formation in front of me didn't belong. It didn't blend in with the flat surroundings and I stared at it for some sort of inspiration, summoning all my will to locate my friends. Or anything. I didn't really care at the moment as long it provided me with a flicker of hope-that I wasn't wasting my time or undergoing delusions of grandeur. 

Nothing. 

I folded my arms and leaned against the rock. I stared at my two cohorts and announced _(without a bit of drama, I'll have you know)_, "There's nothing here. Are you sure we're in the right spot, Gram?" 

"Use the compass, Master." 

I removed them from my face and waved them around. I replied, "These are glasses, Gram. Not exactly the easy-to-read navigational system that we apparently require." I lowered my arm and rested it on a small level area on the rock. I took a deep calming breath and stated, "I want to find Liz and Isabel now." 

There was a loud boom and a flash of light. I glanced up and barely had time to let out a small squawk before a lightening bolt zapped into the glasses. A small crater opened up beneath me and I slid underground, tumbling down a wave of dirt as if I had been sucked up into an avalanche. I held onto the glasses with a firm grip and checked to make sure the bowl was still tied to my belt hoop. I looked upwards and before the hole closed up, I could make out the huge rock that I had been leaning against. The dirt quickly swallowed me up as well. My brain told me to panic, pointing out the flaws in our plan and reminding me that I wasn't getting any oxygen, but I wasn't scared. I don't know if it was stupidity or the fact that I had already survived a few near-death experiences in one afternoon _(a cocky "been there, done that" attitude)_. 

A blue streak of light passed before my eyes and created an opening beneath me. I fell right through and hit the ground with a crash. I clutched my head and moaned, "I can manage to breath in sand, a strange feat for mankind, but I can't learn to land on my feet? Just my luck!" I leaned back against the flooring, grateful the ride was over, and closed my eyes while I caught my breath. Since our encounter with Gram, I had been going nonstop and a few seconds of recuperation wouldn't slow us too long. 

I felt fingers on my neck, someone checking for my pulse, and I prepared my "I'm alright" speech for Jesse. I expected to see him lying right next to me, but the floor around me was empty minus a pair of converse sneakers. I made out whispering and it definitely wasn't his or Gram's voice. My eyes bolted open and I jumped up, expecting to find an attacker ready to lunge. A hand landed on my shoulder from behind and I spun around. I dropped the sunglasses, sending them flying across the concrete floor, and stared at the person for a second. I tried to find my voice, to say something witty like the protagonist of a movie would, but when my eyes locked on my best friend's baffled ones, there were no words that would have accurately expressed my elation at finding them. 

Liz was standing there, donning a flannel shirt and jeans that were ripped in several places along the pant leg. She looked different. Not only the physical with the long red wisps of hair that clung to her cheeks, which were a purplish color, or her newly-colored green eyes which diverted to the floor. She hunched forward, making her already petite frame look even smaller. I refused to think about the huge chasm of life that was separating us and focus on the moment. We were both there and I wasn't too late. Maybe things were going to work out after all. Maybe I would get my second chance and this time make the right decision. I hugged her and said, "Liz. Thank God. I was so worried and-hey, where's Isabel?" 

"Maria?" Liz managed to peep out before tightening our embrace. She shook her head in disbelief, "How did you find us? How did you even know? What are you doing here?" 

"I heard that you had gotten yourself into some trouble and we're here to rescue you." 

"We?" a voice replied from behind me. I followed the sound and practically fell into Isabel. Despite having seen the two of them with Gram's help, Isabel appeared worse for the wear than I had expected. She was gaunt looking, huge bags under her eyes and traces of dried blood along her jaw. She resembled one of the pea-pod people in _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_, an almost comatose look on her face, before she studied me. She glanced at me discerningly and talked to Liz as if I weren't there. She asked, "How do we know this isn't some trick to get information out of us?" 

"About the Morlagola Key? Yeah, I already know more about it than I care to, thanks." 

Liz's face contorted with shock. She stared at me appraisingly, an undecipherable smirk on her face which made me feel so alone. She used to be my best friend, the person who knew best in the entire world, and so much time had passed that I felt like an intruder, that Liz was practically a stranger to me. First Michael and now Liz. Why had I even bothered? Was I some sort of sadomasochist? 

Liz stepped away from me, obviously taking Isabel's worries at face value. I vacillitated between understanding and the impulse to lecture the two of them on gratitude. I came all this way-endured conversations with midget holograms and got hit by lightening-to save their asses and they were giving me the cold shoulder. This was the stuff that nightmares were made of. Like being chosen last for dodge ball in grade school while the cheerleaders ganged up on you. Except worse. 

"She fell from the ceiling, Liz. She created her own entry like the guards do. How could Maria do that?" 

Liz focused her attention on me and said, "She's got a point. How did you do that?" 

"Long story." 

"I bet," Isabel scoffed. The terror I had seen in the vision Gram showed us was etched into every line of her face. She inched away from me and said, "It's begun, hasn't it?" 

I sighed and said, "Is this annoy Maria day or something? Do the two of you even care what I've gone through to rescue you?" I noticed the glasses had skidded to the far corner of the room. My eyes wandered over the layout as I went to reclaim the glasses. Isabel leered in my direction, following my gaze to the glasses, and her face contorted into an unreadable expression. She exchanged looks with Liz, who mouthed something to her that I couldn't make out, and she set her steely eyes upon me. Isabel and I had never been very close so reading her was always a bit of a challenge, but in that room, in those few seconds, I felt something run through me. It was as if someone had transplanted her fear into me and I realized how vulnerable Isabel was. I still couldn't disregard the sensation that there was something strange about the whole damn thing. 

I immediately chastised myself for my reaction. God only knew what the past two years had been like for them and add to it a crazy Meddecchi out to get them-well, it was a bit much for anyone to process. I smiled weakly in Isabel's direction, hoping that would convey some proof of who I was, as I started to walk toward the glasses. Surprisingly, when the thought of picking them up flickered through my mind, the frames made a small popping sound before settling on the tip of my nose. 

Liz stepped even further away from me. I stared at her, trying to get her to look at me. When she did, I tried to do our old secret handshake from when we were little, but she stared at me blankly, as if I was the extraterrestrial in the room. I groaned and said, "I guess I don't remember it as well as I thought. Sue me. I wasn't expecting to have to prove myself to you guys. I thought you would _know_ me." 

Isabel explained, "Maria is human. She's not like us. Ordinary girl with no powers. Nice try though." 

"What do the two of you want from me? A DNA sample?" I snapped. I let out a low growl and pointed at Liz, "You never slept with Kyle. You did it because Future Max came to visit you and said you had to make him fall out of love with you. You also had a bizarre crush on Mr. Wizard when we were seven, which I still cannot understand nor do I want to." I pointed at Isabel and said, "You used to make Jesse serenade you with Poison's Greatest Hits, specifically Every Rose Has Its Thorn, which makes me wonder about your mental stability. I've heard him sing and it wasn't a pleasant experience." 

"How did you-Maria didn't know that," Isabel insisted when we both noticed Liz drop any pretense of disbelief. Isabel shook her head as if she was trying to convince herself that I was a fraud. She went on, "Jesse was the only person who knew that." 

"I wish that were true, Isabel," I replied dryly. 

I prepared myself for an inquisition, ready to provide more proof of who I was, when Liz rushed at me and the two of us fell to the ground. We started to laugh and talk at the same time, stupid questions that were best suited for later, but couldn't wait in our eyes. She admired my clothes _(one of the benefits of wealthy grandparents was the upgrade in designer fashions) _and I complimented her bold hair choices. I pushed the loneliness I was feeling, the distance that still seemed so vast between me and my best friend, from my conscious thoughts, and continued to chatter about nothing and everything. Isabel, who had been hovering on the parameter of our exchange, jumped in a little bit later and the three of us hugged again. We got lost in the moment, best friends reunited, and probably wouldn't have stopped if my phone didn't ring. 

I commented, "I can't get a signal on the street, but in an underground cavern, my phone works. Figures." I picked it up as quickly as I could, worried that the melody would give my arrival away to whomever was holding my friends captive. I whispered into the phone, "Hello." 

"Maria? Are you okay? Where are you? What happened?" Jesse rushed out in one breath. 

I replied, "It's me. I'm fine. Not sure and again, not sure. Where are you?" 

"I think I'm standing on top of you." 

"That's something I don't hear every day," I retorted with a chuckle. Jesse's loud nostril hisses made it quite clear he didn't see the humor in the situation and I said, "There's a cavern beneath us. Tell Gram to bring you down here." 

"Us?" 

I glanced from Liz to Isabel and said, "I found them." 

"Is Isabel okay? How does she look?" 

"You'll be able to ask her yourself if you get your ass down here!" 

"Right. Hold on," Jesse replied. He lowered the phone and his voice blended with what had to be Gram's. The only thing I could make out was when Jesse started to yell and then the distinct sound of sharply drawn breaths. After a few more seconds, Jesse murmured, "He won't." 

"Tell him to get me out of here right now. Be clear that I don't mean just me, but Liz and Isabel too." 

The strain of his voice made it obvious that he was attempting to control his temper. He replied, "I tried and he won't. _You're_ his master, not me." 

"Step closer to Gram and hold your phone up," I ordered. I disentangled myself from Liz and Isabel. I shrugged off their baffled expressions and shouted into the phone, "Gram, get your scrawny form down here now. I don't care if you think it's not wise and I'm not in the mood for sassoh, and don't forget to bring Jesse!" 

The walls shook and one of the chairs in the dungeon flew at my head. Liz pushed me out of the way and Isabel cried out, "What's happening now?" 

I wasn't surprised when I saw the familiar whirlwind appear in the enclosed area. If riding inside the thing was unpleasant, I could attest that being outside it, as the tornado of color settled down, was worse. My hair pushed back, practically ripping from its roots, and my organs felt like they were being sucked out of my body through a hose. I noticed Isabel and Liz attempting to make a shield but it wasn't strong enough to endure the force of the whirlwind. 

Jesse fell to the ground and Isabel glanced at me in disbelief before rushing to his side. She whispered something in his ear and Jesse opened his eyes, blinking up at Isabel. He smiled and she pulled him off the floor. 

Before I had to witness some sickeningly sweet reunion, I commented, "Your landings are improving, Jesse. Almost impressive." 

He pointed at me, "Don't you ever leave me with that thing again." 

Isabel looked at the two of us strangely and all she managed to get out was "how" before Jesse waved her questions off and wrapped his arms around her. She murmured against his lips at first before the two of them got caught up in the moment. There was a swelling in my chest as I watched the two of them reunite. God that was what I had wanted with Michael. A nanosecond of time where we could simply enjoy being together again. Was I asking too much? Instead I was trying to avoid the label of voyeur as Jesse and Isabel played tonsil hockey. I was bitter and I loathed myself for resenting someone else's happiness. 

I willed myself to look away from the two of them and stepped aside. Liz followed my lead and the two of us stood there in uncomfortable silence for a minute before I couldn't take it anymore. I rolled my eyes and muttered to Liz, "He's been planning this reunion for days. He's even got a speech." 

Liz smiled at me knowingly and said, "Speeches are good." 

"Not this one. There are several references to her essence, and I could be wrong, but I think at one point he steals a verse from a Backstreet Boys' song," I replied. I studied her peripherally and said, "But you would know about that." 

"I would?" 

"Yes, you and Max, destined lovers that could not be kept apart. 

"Oh right. Yeah. That's us," she said. 

I jumped slightly when I noticed Gram hovering by my side. I turned to face him and placed my hands on my hips. I stated, "We've been over this sneaking-up thing, Gram." 

"Yes master." 

"You could have prepared me for my little trip down the hole. Alice in Wonderland, I'm not." 

Gram didn't even have the good sense to look forlorn. Instead, he stood there with the same detached gaze. He stared at Liz for a moment and then looked back to me. He said, "You ordered the compass to take you to the location, Master. It did as you asked." 

"Master?" Liz interrupted. 

I said, "Long story." 

"We must get to the key. You must locate it before battling the Meddecchi otherwise you and your friends will not survive. Danger is imminent." 

I patted Gram's back and said, "We really need to work on those words of encouragement, Gram." 

"I do not understand, Master." 

"Of course not," I replied. I rolled my eyes at Isabel and Jesse who were busy memorizing the lines of one another's faces. I wanted to believe that my urge to heave was due to the fact that they were annoying, but I was pretty sure that it was mostly jealousy on my part. I cleared my throat loudly and when that didn't work, I slapped Jesse on the back. 

He seemed surprised to find me standing there. He smiled sheepishly, "Oh hi Maria." 

I crossed my arms, "You flat out forgot we were here." 

"No, I was--" 

"You're the worst liar I've ever encountered. You forgot that Liz and I were here witnessing this disgusting spectacle." 

His eyes narrowed on mine with faux anger. He leaned in close to me and said, "You're impossible to forget. Believe me. I've tried." 

"Whatever jackass," I said, dismissing him with the wave of my hand. I met Isabel's curious glare and added, "Don't worry. It's a pet name. Right Jesse?" 

"Yes, somehow in her deluded mind, referring to me as jackass is a term of endearment." 

Witnessing our banter acted as a conductor for all the questions that Liz and Isabel were trying to overlook. Isabel stepped between the two of us and began her interrogation, "How did the two of you get here? How did you do that wind thing and what the hell is that creature? And what's it doing here with you? How long have you been looking for us? Does anyone else know where we are? And since when are the two of you friends?" 

I glanced at Jesse, who still had a stronghold on Isabel's hand, and said, "You want to field these questions since it's all your doing?" 

"Again with the blame," he said. He reached out and chucked my chin, "Buck up, champ." 

I shook my head and looked to Liz for support, "Do you see what I had to put up with? I think I liked it better when he was Isabel's husband, a person with whom I had no interaction." I noticed Isabel was tapping her foot impatiently, awaiting an answer to her liking. I went on, "I bumped into Jesse at a coffeebar that I frequented in Boston. Many days later this has spiraled out of control and we've bonded over tons of crap, I'm sure. Am I forgetting anything, Jesse?" 

He shrugged, too busy looking into Isabel's soul undoubtedly, and said, "A lot actually, but we don't have time to deal with it right now." 

"So you met in Boston?" Isabel asked. 

Jesse nodded and said, "I was actually following up on a lead and I plowed Maria down. She and I have been working together ever since." 

"That's right. You were in Boston," Liz replied. 

It was my turn to wear the dubious expression. I shifted around until my eyes could narrow on hers and I asked, "How did you know that?" 

"Jesse and Isabel had been planning to move there all along, Maria," Liz replied cautiously. She shrugged off the look on Isabel's face and added, "He got a job for a firm there." 

"Yes, I know that, but how did you know that _I _was in Boston?" 

"You must've mentioned it?" Liz offered, glancing to Isabel for saving. 

"No." 

"Sure, you did. When we were hugging back there." 

"No, I didn't." 

"I dreamwalked you, Maria," Isabel interrupted, glaring at Liz as if this was supposed to remain a secret. 

My head swiveled around toward her and I replied, "You did what?" 

"Michael wanted to know that you were okay and asked me to dreamwalk you." 

"Did you do that often?" I questioned, suddenly embarrassed at the thought of Isabel witnessing one of my preposterous fantasies, especially since almost all of them _(save the two Ben Affleck ice cream dreams)_ involved Michael. How humiliating. Why hadn't it crossed my mind before that Isabel might have done something like that to me? As if this day could get any worse. 

"Just once." 

"Isabel, why would you do that?" Jesse asked. He shook his head and said, "That's an invasion of her privacy." 

"I didn't do it to spy on her, Jesse. I did it for the same reasons I did it to you." 

"WHAT?" he shouted, his voice causing a slight tremor in our current location. 

"We wanted to make sure that the two of you were safe. Same goes for Sheriff Valenti." 

I could feel the steam rising off of me and observed the skin on my hands and arms turn from alabaster to a scarlet coloring. I tried to find my voice, but it escaped me. My mind was spinning. Thousands of thoughts that made no sense whizzing around until I flashed on two very different thoughts: Michael was worried about me and Michael knew where I was all along and didn't care. Of course, I chose to focus on the negative. Any doubts I had that Isabel was telling the truth-more specifically what Isabel and Liz weren't saying-were overlooked in order for me to harp on the influx of emotions rushing around inside of me. 

I covered my face with my hands, ordering myself not to break down. Liz might have been my best friend, but those times where I felt comfortable letting her see me vulnerable were over. I banged my fist against my forehead as if I could rid myself of this new information with sheer will and finally managed to say, "Interesting as that information is, we need to get out of here." 

Liz squeezed my arm and said gently, "Maria--" 

I waved her off and said, "Gram, where to next?" 

"You will confront the Meddecchi before this night is over." 

Liz's mouth gaped open and Isabel focused her attention on Gram. Liz asked, "What exactly is going on here?" 

I ignored her and spoke to Gram, "To do that I need the key right?" 

"It would be preferable," Gram answered. His eyes wandered over the immediate holding area and added, "But that may not come to pass." 

"The key doesn't work," Isabel interrupted. When we all looked at her, she shifted nervously on her feet, turning to Liz, and said, "Lonnie gave it to me and said that it was powerful. She told me that it would protect us from harm, but you can't harness the energy. These people seem to think that there are only a few that could work it. God knows what Lonnie is up to." 

"The key will work if we find the amulet and then get to it first," I stated. 

Jesse nodded and Liz replied, "It will?" 

"Yes," I answered simply. I noticed the anxious pursing of Liz's lips and the way her eyes deflected to the ground. I felt like the bearded lady at the circus, the freak that no one could dare to make eye contact with. 

Isabel stepped closer and studied me with a scrutinizing stare. Isabel had always intimidated me when we were younger. In the beginning, it was because she was popular, beautiful, and fully aware of her ability to use those things to her favor. During my whole aliens-freak-me-out phase, it was more paranoia she would eat me for breakfast. Then there was the whole destiny-with-my-boyfriend thing that only added to my worries, but as her eyes roamed over me, something different hidden in the shadows of her face, I felt unsettled. She smiled and patted my shoulder. She said, as if it was commonplace, "You're a chosen one." 

"What?" Liz replied. 

"Those glasses on your face and this thing," she paused, motioning in Gram's direction who wore his usual stoic expression, and grinned even broader, "You can yield the power of the key, can't you?" 

"Like I said before, it's a really long story that I would love to explain to you, if only to prove to myself that I'm not completely bonkers," I replied. I moved around the parameter of the room, patting my hands into the concrete walls. I was hoping to find some sort of lever like in _Indiana Jones_ movies that would let us out of the small area. I sighed and said, "But we need to get out of here before it's too late and, unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a lever to let us out of here." 

"Even if you can get us out of here, how would we protect ourselves, Maria?" Isabel replied. She motioned to the empty room and then to her and Liz. She shook her head, "Our powers aren't fully functional. They did something to us and without Max here-someone could get hurt and there wouldn't be anything we could do." 

"And sitting here would do what to correct the situation?" I asked. 

"I'm trying to be-" 

Jesse opened the side of his jacket to reveal the gun that he insisted on carrying. He said, "We're prepared." 

It seemed to quiet Isabel, but only created more questions from Liz, "Do you really think that will work on an alien?" 

"I don't know, but I figure it will at least slow whatever chases us down. Plus, we've got Gram," Jesse replied. He and I exchanged glances and he said, "Hopefully, we won't need to use this, but I wanted to be prepared." 

"Any chance you've got a drill or shovel in your back pocket?" I quipped. I raised my hands over my head and groaned, "We need to get out of here." 

"The guard creates an opening when he comes in and out. They're-they're after Max, Maria," Liz replied. 

"He's fine. Well, they were all fine yesterday," Jesse offered. 

"You found them? How did you find them?" Liz asked. She took my hand, a surge of electricity going up my arm, and I wondered if that was a side effect of her powers. I wondered if the other aliens noticed it or if it was just me, the boring human girl. She continued with the questions, "Did Max still have the key? Did those men find it?" 

"Yes, we found them and we know where the key is. As for those men, one of them is a pile of dust now." 

"But how-" 

"Jesse and I give the Scooby Gang a run for their money. We're apparently very talented sleuths." 

"Or lucky," Jesse stated. 

"Yeah." 

"Definitely lucky," Jesse added. 

"It looks like the two of you have a whole little shtick going here," Isabel noted. There was a strange edge to her voice that I had never witnessed before and again my heart was under a rapid fire of nerves. 

"She's my partner in crime," Jesse replied, obviously picking up on the weird vibe. He stuck a hand over my mouth and added, "And I'm the big brother she never wanted." 

I smacked his hand away and said, "That's about right." 

"How's Max? He must be going crazy." 

"Oh, he is. Not only did the two of you disappear, but Michael also turned blue. It's a whole ordeal." 

"Master, I must beg of you. We must leave here at once," Gram interrupted, grabbing my hand. There was a panicky edge to his voice that I had never witnessed before and it unnerved me. He whispered to me, "Remember what I told you. You must be careful." 

"Okay, okay," I whispered back. I looked to the others and said, "Let's go." 

"We cannot all teleport. I do not have that sort of power," Gram replied. He tapped his hand on the wall and said, "You must let us out of here, Master." 

_Unleash your power, Master. _

I looked around the room and gasped when I realized that Gram had not spoken those words aloud. I covered my eyes and said, "Please tell me you were not inside my head." 

_We must learn to communicate this way. You must be prepared for what awaits you in the darkness._

"Get out of my head," I shouted. I ignored the worried glances from my friends and walked over to the wall. I patted the relic for luck and imagined an opening in the wall. I placed my hand on the solid rock, mumbling obscenities under my breath, and said, "I can't do this. I suck." 

_Imagine an opening in the wall and it will appear._

"Is this an 'if you build it, they will come' thing?" I asked. When I noticed the worried expressions on Jesse, Isabel, and Liz's faces, I added silently, "My friends think I've gone mad thanks to you." 

_They fear what they do not understand._

I rolled my eyes. I was not in the mood for a philosophical lecture from a teal-colored creature. I shut my eyes and tried to harness my power. I remembered the Tai Chi lessons with my mother-bubbling wells of energy spilling over from inside of me and making all movement possible. My hands tingled as a portion of the wall gave way and I felt my knees buckle. I teetered right along with the slab of rock and said, "Uh-oh" before falling through the opening. 

I fanned the sooty cloud that had risen up around me away and groaned, "Why am I always falling? Is it too much to ask that occasionally someone else looked like the klutz?" I brushed my hands on my jeans and stood myself up. I glanced down the cavern and thought that a light would come in handy. 

There was another popping sound and a spotlight hovered over my head. I waved two fingers at it and it moved ahead of us. I wasn't sure how I had known to do that, but nothing could surprise me anymore. Liz stepped away from Isabel who once again wore the zombie-esque expression. Liz followed my line of vision and shrugged as she wrapped her arm around mine. I flashed on the last time we did that together. It was before graduation. It was different now, but then again everything was. That was growing up, right? She said, "I won't even ask how you did that." 

I smiled weakly and replied, "I'm not sure I could explain it anyway." 

We crept down the long tunnel for what felt like miles. I could make out the sound of creepy-crawlies hiding in the darkness as they scattered to avoid the light intermixed with the sounds of our breathing. The eeriness continued for awhile until I could make out the faintest of sounds. Voices. One voice in particular. An actual shiver ran down my spine and a throbbing tore into my side. 

I bent over, expecting to find a knife protruding from my side, but there was nothing there. I gasped for breath, the pain becoming unbearable. I imagined this was what childbirth felt like, if you were delivering the demon spawn of hell. My hands reached out for something to latch onto, but the rocky walls were too uneven. The pain intensified and I yelped out, unable to maintain a modicum of control in the situation. 

Jesse rushed to my side as the voice became clear and I realized it was inside my head. The words weren't in English, but I understood the gist of it. It was the Meddecchi. She had found us. 

"Maria? Look at me," Jesse ordered, shaking me lightly. He removed his coat, handing Isabel the gun. He barked out commands, "Keep an eye on the opening. Shoot first and ask questions later. Got it?" 

Isabel shook her head, "I don't know if I can-" 

"You'll do whatever you have to, Isabel. I know you will," Liz stated encouragingly as she hovered over me, worry evident on her face. 

Jesse removed his hands from stomach and looked around the room with a frantic expression before regaining his cool composure. I tried to smile at my friends, but I could barely keep my eyes opened. Jesse stepped aside and whispered something comforting to Isabel. He twirled a lock of her hair and smiled reassuringly. Again, I was paralyzed by my envy and wished that Michael were there at the moment. 

Jesse retook his position next to me, resting his hand on my forehead, and he said, "She's burning up." He folded his jacket up and placed it underneath my head. Liz bent down next to him and took my hand. Jesse continued talking, "You've got to tell us what happened. Where's the pain?" 

I wanted to explain to him, but it was impossible. It felt like an invisible force was poking at an undetectable wound in my gut, jutting its instrument further into my flesh. The voice became more distinct and a landslide of voices and thoughts bogged down my brain. I couldn't escape and bravery was lost on me. It was too excruciating. 

Jesse shook me again and demanded, "Look at us, Maria. You need to stand up. We can't get you out of here without you." 

"No hope. I keep getting no hope," I replied, muttering the words that ran across my eyes like one of those bouncing balls over the words of songs in karaoke bars. 

I closed my eyes, unable to fight the agony anymore, and looked for some sort of solace within myself. That was when the scene unfolded before me. It was like a dream, a horrible nightmarish kind where I knew I should be doing something but I had no control. Someone else was in charge of this situation. The voice grew louder, coming from the base of my skull, and I felt the oxygen vacate my lungs. I reached for my throat, desperate for air, as images sped through my mind way too fast to register. 

Except for one. 

I bolted upright, fighting through the unbearable pain, and threw Liz aside. I did it in enough time to avoid a bright purple light from piercing into her chest. She hit the opposite wall and as I went to warn Jesse, Isabel fired the gun in his direction. 

I willed it to stop and the bullet stopped midair before reflecting off into the wall behind us. I imagined a shield around us, but the voice became more venomous within my head-creating a ruckus that made concentration impossible. 

"One day with powers and Maria thinks she's a match for us," Isabel countered. She cocked the gun and pointed it at my chest, "Admit it, Maria. You want me to shoot you right now. Make the pain go away-maybe Michael would even miss you if you were dead because God knows he hasn't otherwise." 

I looked at Jesse as realization dawned on his face. Jesse stood up, opening his arms as if he was surrendering and he said, "Isabel, you don't know what you're doing. Something must've happened-" 

"Clarity happened, Jesse. I remembered who I really was and said goodbye to stupid Isabel and her dreams of being human and having a real life. Look how well that worked out for me, huh?" 

"Isabel, you wouldn't shoot Maria," Liz replied, inching closer to me, her gaze focused intently on Isabel as if she thought she could control the situation. 

I knew it was fruitless. There was no hope. 

"It's her or me, Liz, right? There aren't many of us that can control the trinity of the Gantuk, and the others must be eliminated," Isabel smiled, one of those diabolical types that ran amuck in suspense movies, and added, "I've got to admit, Maria. We had no idea you were the chosen one. I was positive it was Max. My stupid brother has never fully understood his powers and I thought concocting this kidnapping would force him to draw the energy out of himself. Color me surprised when you showed up with servant in tow." 

"You won't win," I replied. I wasn't sure who I convinced, considering my current homage to the victim of a torture chamber. 

Isabel didn't appear too concerned with my rather fruitless declaration either. She said, "Right. I've got the amulet, soon I'll have the key, and now I've got the relic. Not to brag, but all you've got is a major case of the dying blues." 

Jesse had slowly stepped toward Isabel. When she noticed she said, "You might want to say goodbye to your new girlfriend, Jesse" as she aimed the gun at me. Jesse went to tackle her, but she released another shot in my direction. I had no strength to will it away this time. Noises seemed louder than usual, the light from the lantern brighter, and there was a lead taste on my tongue. I tried to push past the pain and protect my friends, but all I managed was an almost inaudible, "run" to Jesse and Liz. 

I resigned myself to my fate-except it didn't happen. 

Jesse had thrown himself on top of me. I felt another sharp pain and instinctively reached out to him. His eyes were closed and I tried to fight off the pain. Liz had moved over to us, unsure of what was going on, and I croaked out, "Gram, he's been shot. You need to do something." 

"I cannot interfere with such things." 

"Gram!" 

"This was forewarned, Master." 

"Gram, is it?" Isabel began. She stepped closer to me and took the sunglasses off my face. She looked at him and said, "I believe that _I'm_ your master now." 

"Isabel, what are you doing?" Liz asked without much conviction. Her words didn't appear to penetrate through Isabel's hardened scowl. Instead Isabel practically smirked at the question, as if she had been waiting months to be asked the question. I noticed the strange look on Liz's face, not one of fear or comprehension, but I couldn't place it. I didn't have time to worry about the lost time between my best friend and myself as Jesse moaned and I directed my attention back to him. I smiled weakly at him as Liz and Isabel stared each other down. Liz stepped closer to Isabel, a strangely brazen move, and added, "This isn't like you. You're a good person." 

"Looks can be deceiving." 

"No." 

"Spare me the spiel! Do you know how sick I am of putting up with your incessant whining? I thought if I remained in character one of you idiots would get me the information on how to control it. Big brother would jump in, quick to save the day, and provide me with all the information I needed for my plan. I didn't expect the answer to be Maria, and I doubt you did either. But, then again, no one ever expected much of Maria, did they?" 

"Shut up," Liz snapped. She raised her hand as if to use her powers against Isabel. 

Isabel rolled her eyes, "You're no match for me and you've got too much to lose." Isabel twirled the glasses around and said, "I'm almost there now. No one can stop me." 

I couldn't think. I held my hands over the wound in Jesse's side, but the only thing I could comprehend was the blood. So much blood, too much blood for one person. The pain was radiating through my entire left side, but it was different than before. Prior to the shot, it was a strange mystical grip on my organs, squeezing the life out of it. Now there was a very real location, but I didn't have time to focus on that. 

Jesse gasped for breath and said, "Leave me." 

"No way," I said, the tears escaping from the corners of my eyes. I went to brush them back-no time for waterworks-and smeared the blood along my cheek. Jesse started to convulse and I demanded, "Fight it, Jesse. We're going to get help." 

Isabel laughed, "Not going to happen. Gram, remove them-and I do mean permanently." Gram didn't move and Isabel's face twisted with fury, "I gave you a direct order! You answer to me now!" 

"Master is still the possessor." 

It hit me that Isabel had mistaken the glasses for the relic, which was still securely attached to my side. Before she could figure out what was going on, I secured my grip on Jesse and yelled at Liz, "Grab onto my arm." 

"No," Isabel managed. Her voice grew a bit stronger, realization kicking in, and she shouted, "No!" 

I closed my eyes and fought through all the noise inside of my head, holding on to the one recurring thought that I had. The whirlwind picked us up and Isabel's voice became a distant scream. I knew it wasn't the end. Not for her anyway. I wasn't so sure about myself at the moment. 

We hit the ground in a crash, falling into thriftstore furniture. The three of us skidded apart and I attempted to figure out our location. We were in a house and I heard voices outside the door. I didn't concern myself with those at the moment-I couldn't-and I disregarded the blood that had spread along my abdominal area. The pain was almost nonexistent at the moment. I was numb. Everything around me echoed as if it was happening somewhere else and I was nothing more than an observer. 

That was until I heard Jesse's loud gasps and saw the blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I glanced at Liz, who had rushed to the door and uttered empty reassurances in my direction before talking to someone else. 

I didn't care. My only objective was Jesse. I kneeled down beside him and said, "You're gonna be okay, Jesse." 

"It wasn't her. I should've known." 

"I know." 

"You tried to warn me about the gun," he choked out. He squeezed my hand and said, "You've got to save her now." 

"What?" 

"Isabel," he paused. His eyes fluttered shut and I smacked his cheek lightly, trying to keep him with us. I didn't know how to handle a situation like this. I was always shielded from the gunshots and dying people. I used to get upset with Michael for not letting me into his world completely-now I wished I had listened to him. I wanted to distance myself from this and keep Jesse from fading away. His eyes wandered over me and he attempted a smile, "You're the only one I trust to save her." 

"Jesse no-no, _you're_ supposed to do that," I replied. 

"She's not right. I felt it. My fault," he shook his head, expending all his energy on one movement, and groaned. He croaked out, "Fix this for me, Maria." 

I tightened my grip on his hand as if I could pass my life force to him somehow. Jesse had the real thing with Isabel. What did I have? He wasn't supposed to be the one lying there like that. She was aiming for me. I wanted to yell that at him. Stupid man had to save the day. I whispered, "You're going to protect her yourself once we figure this whole thing out." 

I heard familiar voices behind me and someone pushed me aside. I looked over and there was Max. I refused to release my hold on Jesse's hand, afraid to discontinue the connection. Max placed his hand on Jesse's wound and closed his eyes, but I knew it wouldn't work. Jesse's hand was lifeless and a sob escaped from my chest. 

Max bit his lower lip and focused his stony expression on me. He said, "I couldn't save him." 

"He shouldn't-he wasn't supposed to," my voice trailed off and I pounded my fist into his chest. I hollered, "Why did you try to save me? Why?" I placed my hand on his shoulder and glanced up at the ceiling as if I expected to see his spirit zooming over my head. I whispered, "Jesse" as if I still expected him to answer me, as if it was only a mild accident, but his body was frozen in time. He looked serene considering the violent nature of his exodus from the world. Gently, very gently, not wanting to wake him, I lowered his shirt where Max had raised it to try to save him and let out a sharp moan of surprise and pain. 

Two arms latched around my waist and lifted me away from Jesse. I went to yell at the person-I wasn't ready to leave my friend, the big brother I never wanted, behind. I turned to slam my fist into his chest, but it was Michael. He wrapped his arms around me and kept repeating, "I'm sorry" over and over again. 

Despite everything-Gram existence, my destiny, Jesse's shooting-relief briefly washed over me. Michael could still fill me with a sense of security, no matter how false it truly was. His grip tightened on me as his hands roamed up the small of my back and tangled themselves within my hair. He kissed the top of my head-uncharacteristically sweet for Michael-and reality slowly sank in. I replied, through the tears, "I wished to get to you. You saved us, Michael. We wouldn't-" My voice faltered, syllables slurring as my mouth stopped functioning properly, and I felt my legs give out. I looked down at my shirt and then glanced at Jesse. I said, "Gram will help you. I'll make him." 

I heard Michael shouting my name and he shook me gently-but I couldn't reach him. There was a fogginess to the room, an odor that I couldn't place but made me want to crawl within myself. Everything became more distant-the voices attached to my friends, the image of Jesse's lifeless form, and the feel of Michael's hands on my cheek-until I couldn't keep my eyes opened any longer. 

The last thought in my head before the darkness overtook me was that Jesse's sacrifice had been in vain. We had failed. 


	8. Part Eight: Middle of Nowhere, Kansas

**Title: ** A New Journey 

**Author: ** storydivagirl [at] hotmail [dot] com 

**Disclaimer: ** not mine, never were...just a big fan of Maria and want to do her some justice 

**_Author's Note:_** Sorry for the delay, but a lot is going on at the moment. I do try to update as often as I can, but I also want to make sure the story is decent, so I tend not to rush it. I apologize. If it's good, it's all my doing. If it's bad, blame Steph, my betaslave! Without her this story would be terrible and only make sense to me because she forces me to explain those things in my head. 

**_Warning: _**If you thought last chapter was dark, beware that Part Seven was only the beginning of the darkness, death, etc. I cannot promise that everyone else will live and I hope this story doesn't scar too many people. Blame the evil fork, JK Rowling, for only further adding to the darkness with her evil book! 

Part Eight: Middle of Nowhere, Kansas 

I think everyone should imagine her demise at least once before the actual moment it occurs. I mean, we are genetically predisposed to rehearse everything else, so why should the biggest event of our lives _(or more appropriately, the big finale) _be any different? There is lucidity to it, an odd sort of beauty in confronting the undeniable and the transience of time. 

For the record, that story about life flashing before your eyes is a bit misleading. After succumbing to the darkness caused by a ricochet bullet into my side, I fully expected to find myself overwhelmed by images as if I had gotten stuck in one of those circular movie theaters where pictures zoom by at warped speed. Somewhere between the pain with no origin and the numbness of accepting I was hit despite Jesse's best attempts to save me, I decided that whatever else awaited me would have to be better than a room cluttered with old antique chairs overdone with blood-soaked hues and an overabundance of throw pillows with long tassels of beads infamous for severing eyes. I recalled a long list of pop culture references that had been shoved down my throat and I anticipated an anthology of my greatest hits; a retrospective of my life where I realized that living is all about eluding the inevitable end for as long as possible. It was supposed to be my memories, an animated patchwork of time that my subconscious trapped within its confines. The ultimate pros and cons list. 

After all, that was what Liz led me to believe. Her voice had been grave and confident as she spoke, explaining the seconds before Max healed her. It was in the midst of one of my faith-driven quests, something I often undertook after a mishap of the alien variety was narrowly circumvented. Liz had placed her hands on my shoulders and steered me to an empty booth in the Crashdown, where I proceeded to hyperventilate and throw out the random questions running through my brain. She tried to comfort me the only way she knew how-the truth as she knew it or chose to remember it. 

Sure, there were snapshots of experience that practically played out before my eyes, but it was much more subtle than a bombardment of _I told you so_ and _what if_. It was senses on overloadand emotions. In those split seconds of teetering between two worlds, my mind ran the gamut of emotions locked inside of me. The ones I didn't even recall like the tart taste on my lips and the slow unraveling inside my gut as my father pulled out of the driveway for the last time-and those that I thought would cause me to implode if I didn't spurt them out quickly enough. 

There was also peace, a strange stillness that anchored the abundance of feelings on rapid-fire. There was no time for pangs of regret, misunderstandings, or any of those banal occurrences that bogged down the brain. It simply was a matter of fact and the calmness came out of the way I accepted everything so easily. 

It was what I imagined existing within a bubble would feel like-the ability to lose yourself, but maintain a connection to humanity. The outside world was visible to the eyes, but there were layers protecting me as I floated away, unbodied, caught up in the wind and the hum of energy surrounding me. There was the dim acknowledgement that at any second the bubble could burst, but I had no reservations as I sailed further into the heavens. 

It was so much simpler there, just _being_. 

No worries, no worries. 

No blood on my hands, no deluge of guilt and terror. 

Quiet. 

"More will follow," said the voice within my head before I had passed out and I had feared that Jesse's demise was only the beginning. 

But not there because the quiet blanketed me from all those uncertainties that the world couldn't. 

God, why couldn't things remain quiet? 

The room was a beige sarcophagus. A fluorescent blue light reflected on an ugly rectangular box and blinked out the current time, forcing life back into my lungs with a subsonic whoosh. My heart beat loudly, the sounds of a mechanical tick echoing in my ears, and my chest rose and fell with no difficulty. Sounds from the outside world and voices from another room blended together in cacophonous agony as my eyes adjusted to the gray beams of light infiltrating the room via an open curtain. It blended with the beige coloring of the walls, padding the cracks, and created a murky ambiance, like the water in a backyard pond. 

_It wasn't supposed to be this way,_ I thought. 

It was contrasted by the verdant green I observed outside the window, leaves shimmering on the trees and the sounds of life, in the forms of birds chirping, rumbling beneath my room. We were no longer in the void of the desert, the place where life was not meant to exist but still managed to thrive somehow, nor were we in the city, the air lacking the crackle that only a crowded block could generate. We were at a rest stop somewhere between the two, an evanescent place where tall, bending towers of grass lined a small dirt road that appeared to go on for as far as the eye could see, absorbing the blue embers of the sky. 

The air was hot and still and felt like a weight against my chest. A tree sap smell blew into the room with the wind and there was no denying it-I was awake. I was still there. Alive. Oxygen in my lungs and noise in my head. 

I didn't want to be. If I was awake, then everything that had happened was awaiting my return-biding its time in the shadows-and, quite frankly, I was never very good at seeing things through until the end. I had a history of getting in over my head, failed attempts at solving the problem, and running off to lick my wounds in the privacy of my own home while I berated myself because I knew that Liz or Alex or Max or even Michael would be able to fix things. 

I missed the quiet already. 

I had been robbed of it. Someone _(Max? God?)_, in his infinite wisdom, chose me over Jesse. I was brought back to this misery, to the inescapable replay of Jesse gasping for breath, his lifeless body, and the painful certainty that he should've been alive instead of me. If only he hadn't tried to protect me. Why? Why did he do that? And how could Isabel instigate this whole mess? What could possibly be better than the way Jesse used to look at her with utter devotion emanating from his eyes? I would've given anything for Michael to stare at me with such adoration. 

_It wasn't supposed to be this way_, I thought again. I yearned to be one of those adults, like Jim or Max or my grandparents who were always composed and could accept any mind-boggling tragedy while remaining taciturn and gracious. In periods of desperation I came across churlish and unappreciative at best. 

My hands roamed over the bed, trying to get a sturdy hold on the mattress, and I pushed myself up. My eyes searched the room for proof that it had been a nightmare. I wanted to believe that Jesse and I were resting in some dive motel before restarting our investigation in the morning. I silently prayed that he would open the door, hands grasping coffee cups aplenty, and make some snarky comment that would keep my mind off all the bad. 

It didn't happen that way. Jesse was gone. _ Gone._ I hated that word and all its connotations, like a plague. I sat there for a few minutes, trying to remember and then forget every detail_moving on_attempting to figure out how long I had been in that bed and exactly where I was. It surprised me that I was perfectly fine, considering the immense amount of pain that I had been in prior to collapsing. There were no lingering aches or side affects that I could determine, as if I had never been injured at all. I lifted myself out of bed and studied the layout, sticking my head out the window and inhaling deeply into the clear sky. The outside world felt completely unaware of the danger looming in the distance-sheer blue with cotton candy clouds that filtered out the sun-and I longed for that type of ignorance to return to me. 

If I had been asked a few days ago whether I would have traded knowing Michael and spending time with him for ignorance to all the craziness that abounded in the universe, I would have been confident in my love for Michael. I still loved Michael, that would never _(could never) _change, but things were different now. 

"More will follow." It was on repeat play in my head like once of those insipid pop songs that slipped off the lips without much thought. 

Losing one loved one was barely manageable, but to find myself reliving that same sort of grief all over againI wasn't that strong. When the others disappeared, I told myself that at least they were alive out there. We couldn't be together anymore, but I knew that they were still in the world, _doing_ things, living their lives, and it offered me some reassurance. What could I tell myself that would make Jesse's demise seem less excruciating? How would I handle it if someone else died? 

I still remembered the look on Sheriff Valenti's face the night that Alex was murdered. Of course, we didn't know it was murder at the time; back then it was an accident, a tiny tragedy that was unavoidable. I couldn't sleep for weeks without Michael there, resting on the edge of my bed, one arm holding onto me and the other stroking the tendrils of hair back off my face. As Michael laid there next to me, offering words of comfort, I imagined what Alex felt in those last few minutes-did he know he was dying, was he aware of the unfairness of it all or was he beyond that-and envisioned different scenarios. It somehow made it easier, as if by harping on the actual event, I was able to find some sort of closure. 

Jesse was different. There was no need to ponder anything, no details left to the imagination. I had been there to witness the whole ordeal-the gun firing, his stupid heroics, and the promise he forced me to make. He was depending on me to see this through. Jesse trusted me with this whole thing and I was a shitty friend because I wanted to yell at him for putting me in this position. _ Damn him_, I swore over and over while a breeze slapped against my cheeks and I choked on the ache swelling in my chest. 

I felt like the sole survivor of some catastrophic disaster. That was it. I was stuck in the middle of _Volcano_ the sequel. Rather than a dingy room with rustic décor, I should have been sitting in the back of an ambulance somewhere, with the red and white lights spinning and illuminating the ashen streets while the sirens blared, huddled in a blanket, telling the reporters and the cameras, "I don't know what happened. It's not right. She was such a nice girl that Isabel Evans. I never saw it coming" 

I stepped away from the window and caught my reflection in the mirror next to the bed. It was the hanging kind, but it was propped up against the opposite wall as if the owner could not be bothered with such narcissistic necessities. I looked old, like the past few days were a time warp that added years to my face. My hair was a tangled mess and my appearance was similar to photographs of drowning victims that were stuck in cold water for days-my lips were a bluish color and my skin had a frozen air to it. I was dressed in clothes that were three sizes too big for me, a little girl donning her father's suits during playtime, and the final touch, a big metallic hand imprint on my side where the gaping wound should have been. 

My hands clutched at my head and my fingers massaged the temples and bridge of my nose-_wish it away, away, away_. I could peer at myself all day and still not recognize the face mirrored back at me, the old Maria too different to relate to anymore, so I stepped away. I crept toward the door, wincing every time my foot made a creaking sound, and reached for the handle. I stood in the threshold of the door the same way I would at the edge of a swimming pool, toes hovering on the edge, ready to plunge in, but hesitant of the initial shock and chill of immersion. I knew what awaited me on the other side-people demanding explanations that I didn't have while attempting to avoid discussing anything of importance. An almost-paradox. No one would want to talk about _the what _suffocating the room, but they would need the details. Max would demand a reliving of the ordeal, every bit of excruciating minutiae included, with an apologetic glare and Liz would feel required to touch me-pat on the shoulder, squeeze of the hand-as if to say "I'm here for you" when in reality none of them knew what to say because none of them knew me anymore. I was the deformed animal at the zoo, the sideshow attraction that a person berated herself for peeking at, but _just had to see_. 

I closed my eyes, although I wasn't sure why, and walked forward. Right into Michael, Smurf-boy extraordinaire. 

Every coherent thought obliterated in his presence and I said the first thing that popped into my head. "Still blue I see." When he didn't say anything, I evil-eyed the tacky ornament hanging from his neck and added, "And there's the reason why, ladies and gentlemen. It's because Michael Guerin is an impatient lunatic." 

He wore the same scowl he had on his face days before _(at least I thought it was days) _and it was a look I was well-accustomed to, one that provided me with a strange sense of security, as if Michael was promising me in his own weird way that some things would never change. I needed that right then. He stared at me, running his hand over his face as though he though he was removing my image from before him, or maybe trying to remove the weariness from his muscles. His eyes were raging and impenetrably dark under his heavy brows, the corners of his mouth curved down in an expression of judgment that was not meant to be cruel, but rather show his anxiety at seeing me. I knew that expression well, usually the one sporting it after numerous dangerous encounters where I became convinced that Michael was never coming home. 

As Michael continued to look at me though, the expression faded and was replaced by a kinder face, the look of someone that was attempting to hold onto the moment. I knew that one too. It was the one that always made me feel special because not too many people ever got to see that side of him. 

"You--" Michael looked down and I couldn't recall a time when words ever escaped us. Even in the end. He cleared his throat and looked back up at me, and this time there was something there I had never seen before. He reached out his hand toward my arm, but stopped himself mid-movement. He cleared his throat again and completed his thought, "You really shouldn't be walking around, Maria." 

I shrugged. Were we really going to do this? Play the meaningless small talk routine that led absolutely nowhere. Anger burned under the tips of my fingers and it took all my energy not to scream at Michael. 

He motioned to the bed and I moaned, making my displeasure known, before moving across the room and plopping down on it. He glanced out the window and said, "We're in Kansas. We'd stopped here for a night, but when you, well, since you guys-well, you know." 

I knew. I couldn't forget. "I was pretty sure chickens didn't wander around freely in New York City, but thanks for clearing that up," I replied, attempting to find my personality beneath the grief of the past few days. I added, "I half expect to see Wilbur the pig wandering around with a spider on his back considering this amazing ambiance." Michael glared sanctimoniously at me as if I had offended him personally and I explained, "It's a Charlotte's Web reference. Literature. Famous child's story. Obviously over your head." 

Michael rolled his eyes as he spun around. For a second I thought he was going to storm off, complaining that I didn't know how to take anything seriously, but he didn't. With one step Michael moved away from the window and engulfed me in an embrace. I wrapped my arms around his neck, unable to stop the tears flowing down my cheeks. I hung onto him as tightly as I could; my eyes squeezed shut against the bad memories lingering in the room around us. All I wanted was Michael. He was what I needed to finish this stupid mission. He was what I had always needed-the comfort only he could provide, without even realizing it. Simple things like that I could feel the bones in his shoulders under my hands, the pulse beating in his throat, the sensation of his hair against my cheek, and the way he smelled like safety and strength. I wondered if that was even possible, to smell of such things. I imagined I reeked of blood and fear and death. It was everywhere; the odor oozing out of my every pore-Maria Deluca, founder of Grim Reaper Perfume, a big seller amongst mass murderers and alien eccentrics. 

He pulled back, caressing my face and said, "I told myself I wasn't going to do this." 

"Do what?" 

"Let you see what--" his voice cracked and it took all my strength not to kiss him. It was the last thing either of us needed right then. Too much had happened to simply wish it away in the same manner that we did with so many things in the past. Michael's hands wandered down the length of me and rested on my forearm. His fingers continued to move to my wrist and he fiddled with the charm bracelet I wore before covering my hands with his own. He sucked in a deep breath and said, "You were told not to get involved, Maria. After what went down in New York City with that maniac, you still didn't listen. Max explained how dangerous it was and you let us think that you-" 

"I'm not responsible for what conclusions you drew after our goodbye in New York. My life is my business." 

"Not when it's something that directly interferes with _my _business. You should've gone back to Boston." 

Michael stared at me, eyes searing with anger, relief, and guilt for being happy that I wasn't the one who died. He looked for meaning-for the why and how this was possible-in my eyes, but I was so tired and so transplanted and so deeply angry to be there, blood pumping and breath escaping-I was livid, furious that an isolated rundown house in the middle of nowhere, Kansas was so outrageously, unacceptably alive. I snapped, "I don't take orders from Max or from you, Michael." 

"Jesse's dead, Maria, and for awhile there, it looked like you were going to join him," he stated, his voice regaining its normal sternness with every additional syllable. 

"Shut up." 

"You acted rashly. You always hear a little piece of information and blow it out of proportion." 

"_Me?_" 

"Yes." 

"You might be surprised to learn this, _Pot_, but you're black." 

"Whatever. Hate me all you want, but Jesse's dead because the two of you didn't leave well enough alone." His words rammed into me at full force and he must've noticed because he quickly added, "I'm worried about you." 

"Your idea of concern is duly-noted and I find myself emotionally moved. Oh wait," I paused and folded my arms to keep from pummeling Michael repeatedly before adding, "Nope. I was wrong. Not moved, just royally pissed off." 

Things were so nice between us for a brief second in time that I was almost thrown by the sudden shift in mood. I didn't want to fight with Michael. I didn't want to hear his lectures or listen to him spew venom about how it was my fault that Jesse was gone. I brushed the last of the tears away and replied, "I know that Jesse's dead. I was there, Michael. _ I _was the one holding his hand when it happened. _ I _was the one who he jumped in front of a bullet to protect. And for what? Because I'm some sort of chosen one. Whoop-dee-do." 

"You're notwhatever. You need to rest. Max healed the bullet wound, but there was something else in your system that he couldn't mend. He wasn't sure what it was." 

"It was the Meddecchi. The amulet must have some sort of," I stopped mid-sentence and called out, "Gram? Gram, where are you?" 

"Who the hell is Gram?" 

"My otherworldly guide," I replied. 

"Oh, is that all?" Michael responded glibly. 

"Where is he? I still had the relic because that's the only way we were able to escape," I replied. My eyes immediately darted around the room and I jumped off the bed. I frantically paced the room, unable to locate it quick enough, before stepping in front of Michael and screaming, "Where is it, Michael?" 

"You're starting to freak me out here, Maria." 

"The relic of the Nagi. I can't-I need it. Don't you understand?" I waved my hands around in the air helplessly while he stood there studying me like there were two extra heads protruding from my neck and I muttered, "Of course you don't understand. I'm the stupid girl that gets in the way of everything. The one that doesn't get what your life is like-how could I possibly be special?" 

Michael shot me one of his typical are-you-for-real steely gazes and folded his arms. He replied, "You need to calm down." 

"You don't understand-" 

"I understand that you need to get a grip and catch your breath, maybe even eat something. You've been unconscious for days and I'm not about to watch you collapse on me again. You scared the hell out of me, Maria, and if you insist on killing yourself, I'm going to ask you to wait 'til I'm gone." 

His words struck me. Michael rarely let his emotions _(anger's not an emotion, but rather a way of life) _get the best of him, especially not fear, and to see him so visibly shaken, well, there was a reason I always felt like a bipolar nutcase around him. I stepped over until I was standing in front of him. I placed my thumb under his chin and forced him to look at me. I smiled as brightly as I could manage given the circumstances and said, "I feel fine. I've honestly never felt better, physically anyway." 

He arched his eyebrow and asked, "Would you tell me if you weren't?" 

"Michael, if I were in pain, I'd make sure the world was aware of it. I thought you knew me better than that." 

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips and he countered, "It's because I know you so well that I asked the question in the first place." 

"I'm fine," I repeated, this time with more conviction. 

"I never wanted any of this to touch you. I thought that if I kept my distance, if we went our separate ways, you would be safe." 

"This wasn't your doing, Michael." 

"I seem to keep messing up your life, don't I?" he said aloud, but not really to me. He tilted his head and examined me as if I was a fun house mirror that distorted his perspective. He removed my fingers from his chin, but didn't break our connection. He rubbed the palm of my hand with his thumb and gulped down air like it was a fountain drink. 

He wouldn't focus his gaze on me as he spoke. "I never want to go through that again. I thought that leaving you was the hardest thing I would ever do, but when you wouldn't wake up" Michael paused when his voice wavered slightly. He still refused to look at me, the stubborn fool, and his hand shook on top of my own. I wanted to comfort him, to interrupt whatever this was and explain that none of that mattered to me, that I was wrong to always compare us to Max and Liz or the happy couple in some romantic fable because, despite everything, what we had was so much better than that. 

I didn't know how to articulate that and Michael was determined to pluck the thoughts from his head. He pulled me down on the bed next to him and his eyes were unyielding in relation to mine. He continued, "I always thought my purpose on this planet was to find a way home, to where I belonged, and then I met you and everything got screwed up-" Michael noticed the frown forming on my face-_inept idiot _was surely his god-given title in the universe-and he groaned, "I suck at this, you know that. You want me to explain how things changed for me when you came into the picture and I'll never be that guy for you, Maria. I can't share my feelings." He stopped on the word "feelings", forcing it out of his mouth like a piece of gristle stuck in his teeth. Michael had always admonished me for the significance I placed on such things, bitching and moaning whenever I dared to tread on the sacred grounds of emotionland. Knowing that made our conversation all the more surreal and I momentarily wondered if I really had died. 

Michael sighed and said, "It's not easy for me to admit how important you are to me, Maria. You make me crazy most of the time." 

"I make you crazy? Ha." 

He talked over me, "And when you're not making me crazy, you're pissing me off. I can't seem to get--I'm not like Jesse, who got you to see things for what they were without even trying." 

"Michael" 

"Let me finish because I swore that I would tell you all of this if you woke up," Michael replied, resigned to his fate of emotional outpouring. I couldn't ignore how he emphasized if. Michael hadn't expected me to survive either-we both knew it wasn't supposed to be this way-though he seemed much more grateful for the altered outcome than I was. 

"But Jesse and I were never together," I stated vehemently. I never considered how my relationship with Jesse appeared to those outside of it because the idea of it being anything more than friends was ridiculous to me. I could never fathom loving someone other than Michael, but he didn't look so sure, as if I was uninformed to my own feelings-which wouldn't be far-fetched if it weren't blatantly obvious to me every time I was around Michael that he was the only guy I could imagine words like "forever" or "crime of passion" _(let's face facts-one of us is bound to murder the other one of these days and totally regret it afterward) _in connection with. I squeezed his hand, careful not to seem patronizing and said, "I'm not sure you know what you're talking about." 

He caught me off guard by chortling softly. His forehead wrinkled so much that it appeared he only had one eyebrow and he said, "I think that's the nicest way you've ever called me an idiot before." 

I rolled my eyes and responded, "I wasn't calling you an idiot, Michael-you know what? I'm not going to argue with you because it will ruin the damn moment. We always ruin our potential moments." 

He released his grasp on my hand and pointed at himself before replying, "Like we could really have a moment while I'm an overgrown blueberry." 

"That's not the point." 

"Yes, it is. You would hold it over my head forever that I had the gall to be blue at one of the pivotal turning points in our relationship," he replied, channeling my future reaction. He smirked-so sure of himself, the cocky bastard-and attempted _(poorly)_ to mimic my voice, "Why is it that the only time you let me know you care is when you resemble Handy Smurf?" 

I snorted, "Handy? More like Smurfette." 

Michael glared in my direction in a manner which was usually reserved for me in our relationship. It was the evil eye of someone attempting sincerity only to be rebuffed with sarcasm. A twinge of regret shot from my gut, but I was unable to stop myself. There was something disconcerting in the intensity of his words, the fact that his voice reeked of honesty, which sent my brain spinning. This was what I had wanted all along, the reason I had embarked on this journey in the first place. The problem was that I wasn't accustomed to a Michael-Maria talk that didn't result in one of us leaving the other behind and it made me a bit wary of taking things at face value. 

I replied off his expression, "It was a joke." 

"Yeah, a poorly executed one." 

"And I wouldn't react like a bonafide crazy person," I offered in vain, ignoring the look of disbelief on Michael's face. I couldn't even kid myself on that one. Michael was right. Do you know how hard that was to admit? _(Not that I would, mind you.) _Michael narrowed his gaze on me, silently explaining that he knew me too well to be fooled, and I felt compelled to disagree, "I wouldn't! I've matured in the past few years, I'll have you know." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Stop trying to start an argument in order to nullify what you said." 

"Whatever." 

"I'm onto your tricks, Michael. You never could say 'I love you' like a normal person." 

Everything else disappeared for a brief instant in time. Michael smiled-the very rare type that wasn't about placating someone, but actually acknowledging contentment-and all I could think about was how nice things were when we were together two years ago _(in good and bad)_. Nice? It wasn't necessarily the most fitting word-to call something nice had such a weak connotation-but definitely the most accurate, stirring up memories of afternoons in the park while I strummed my guitar and Michael blocked me out by blasting heavy metal on his headphones, grinning in my direction every now and then, stopping to initiate a tickle war, which garnered us disapproving looks from the Roswell seniors. I had thought it was the beginning of long overdue happiness. And it was. Snuggling at dark on dried out grass against an ill-placed tree, as if nature was designed by Picasso, and doing our own things but together as dusk rolled in from the distance. Unadulterated bliss and I wished I could go back and relive that moment one more time. There were plenty of good times, but that was the one I loved the most, the one thing that I would take with me through life after life after life. 

Michael shook his head, chuckling at something that I didn't quite understand, and said, "You haven't changed at all." 

"Says the guy that can't hold a discussion with me unless he gets to point out how badly he wants me gone." 

"I never said that." 

"Yes, you did." 

"No, I didn't. 

"That's precisely what you said, give or take a few words." 

"Or a whole conversation," he replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and added quietly, "I thought you didn't want to argue." 

"I'm not the one denying the truth." 

Michael let out a loud breath through his nostrils-a bull about to attack-and flailed his arms out and around, pointing to him and me as he countered, "This is what I was talking about with the crazy thing, Maria." 

I smiled in spite of myself and admitted, "I love you." 

"I know and I love you too. I love you so much and it feels like a sickness half the time, like something that I need to remove from my system, but I don't want the cure and I don't want it to be over. I dunno how to explain it, but I wish neither of us felt this way sometimes. It would be easier," he declared without preamble. He ran his hand over his head, sticking the short hairs up in every direction as he went, and before the words could fester, he quickly added, "Your life was better off without me." 

"Says who?" 

"You were shot," he answered as if that explained everything. 

When he didn't offer any further information, I prompted him, "Thank you for the insight, Captain Obvious. I'm not suffering from amnesia and require a reminder regarding the whole thing." 

"Two years, Maria," Michael replied, again with the man-of-many-words. I narrowed my gaze on him and frowned. He sighed like I was being silly and replied slowly, "You enjoyed two years of an uncomplicated, normal life and within days of being around me, you end up hurt." 

"What happened to me the other day had nothing to do with you, Michael. Not really anyway," I argued. I shrugged, letting out a loud sigh to substantiate my annoyance at his assumptions, and as he rolled his eyes, disbelief evident on his face, I said, "Okay, fine, that might be partially untrue. Yes, the reason I undertook this whole quest was to locate you, to right some wrongs-" 

"You didn't do anything wrong," he protested. He turned his back to me, the curves of his muscles and shoulder blades poking through his shirt, and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. I chewed on my lip, more to suppress the scream bubbling up in my throat, and watched him tap his foot impatiently, most likely trying to force what he considered "common sense" into my skull through a poorly executed homage to _Stomp!_. 

When Michael continued to snub me-now humming some Metallica song to soak up the quiet and obliterate the recently spoken "I love you's" from memory-I stood up and walked back over to the window. My lungs expanded as my nostrils filled with the sharp scent of nature and I closed my eyes against the breeze while I struggled with the right words. I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but I had this problem. Words made sense in my head, but rarely came out how I intended. Thoughts on my lips twisted into blunt objects, leaving small scars on those they came into contact with, and that was the last thing I needed. I wanted to sustain this moment between us for as long as possible. The connection. The innocence of loving someone despite all the reasons that it should never have happened. 

Love was a strange, abstruse thing. For example, the idea that fear could exemplify the feelings that were simmering beneath the surface and somehow ease the tension between two people was bizarre to say the least, and I wasn't immune to the strange affects it had on my mental faculties. Minutes before I was inconsolable, lost in the devastation of the burden weighing down my shoulders, and while that was still an accurate depiction of my emotional state, I found myself eased by Michael's presence. 

I silently reprimanded myself for doing this. I needed to find Gram and go after Isabel. I promised Jesse that I would save her and, if that wasn't possible, I was still a "chosen one" who was destined to handle the Gantuk or die trying. My concentration was supposed to be focused on the Gantuk, the Holy Trinity, and averting a universal disaster of colossal proportions. There could be no more surprises and the longer I hung around the others, the less I contemplated my course of action. I was providing Isabel or her evil clone with a hard on for gunfire or whatever she was calling herself these days with plenty of time to destroy me. And that meant that my friends' current predicament became even more dangerous than usual. 

"Don't even think about it, Maria," Michael stated off the momentary lock of our eyes. The stern tone of his voice pulled me from my thoughts and once again the only concern I had was for his safety. 

I spun around and feigned ignorance, "Huh?" 

"I can practically see the sparks flying from your head." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Michael." 

"This ends now. You're no longer involved. We'll wait until you're better before moving on and then we're dropping you off at the airport. I'll physically place you on the freaking plane if I have to." 

I crossed my arms, attempting to ignore the drumming sound in my head-horses trotting down a brick lane-and the seagulls flapping in formation in my chest. My ears were burning with anger, but all I could harp on was the _click-clack, click-clack_ in my head. I figured it was the Meddecchi coming to finish the job, recalling the incessant pain in my side from before. 

Michael must have noticed because he hurried over to me and draped his arms over my shoulders. He said, "I'm getting Max." 

"I'm fine," I replied, concentrating on the blueness of the sky as I looked on. I gripped my fingers into the bottom of my shirt, as if I could squeeze the thumping out of my brain with some sort of fashion acupuncture. 

"You're not fine," Michael replied as he repositioned my limbs so that he could get a good grip on me. He practically carried me over to the bed, resting my back against the oversized pillows and swinging my feet up onto the bed. He sat down next to me on the edge of the mattress, pushed a piece of my hair back, allowing his hand to linger on the side of my face, and said, "I won't be gone long. I promise." 

I grabbed his hand, panic setting in, and said, "Don't." I couldn't explain it rationally if I tried. There was something in my gut that overwhelmed me, a certitude that screamed not to let him out of my sight because, if I did, there would be no way to get him back. I rolled over in the bed and buried my face in my arms. The certainty of our future separation became stronger as I remembered the recurring dreams that I had been plagued with for weeks. The same dream every night. Always in the same place, a dark cavern that I couldn't escape from. 

_There were linear diagrams drawn on every crevice of the ground-in the dream the designs made sense to me, but I could never recall anything but dread when I woke up-and Michael stood in the center, surrounded by dismembered bodies of friends and strangers alike. Liz was there too. She was dressed completely in black and chanted, "Nasfarat medulica" over and over. I approached her, tapped her on the shoulder, tried to get her to help me get to Michael, but she looked at me malevolently and continued reciting, "Nasfarat medulica."_

_Michael had what appeared to be hieroglyphics tattooed onto his skin and he looked terrified in a way I had only seen from him once before-when Hank had gotten especially bad with his abuse and Michael had crawled through my window in the middle of the night. I tried to shout out to Michael, to let him know that I was there and would save him, but a small child appeared and said, "It will require the ultimate sacrifice" before throwing a set of daggers at Michael. I screamed, but no sound came out. The daggers bounced off his chest to the shock of Michael and me. The child looked at me expressionless and stated, "It is for you to decide" before floating across to Michael. The child placed his small hands on Michael's shoulders, looking ill-placed like something out of Alice and Wonderland, and a large sword materialized out of thin air and struck Michael's abdomen with such force that I could hear the blade rip through him. It echoed in my ears as I felt the world fade away, sucked into an abyss of loss, and Michael crumpled to the ground. There were no words available to me, no thoughts in my head, nothing except static. _

_The cavern resembled the aftermath of a natural disaster. Everywhere were screams of those not-quite dead yet and others crying out for their loved ones. The terror reverberated off the walls and they started to shake from the power of the shrieking. I recalled the hysteria. The copper tinge taste of blood was all that I could smell and it poured out of every crack, seeping down the rocks. There was so much blood that it slowly filled the grotto-a tidal wave of thick red-until Michael's face was no longer visible. I would reach out to him, scream for him, but it never worked. He was gone and I would suddenly find myself falling down a boundless gorge while familiar cackles echoed in my ears._

I crushed my eyes shut and bolted upright, every muscle tensing and covered in sweat, and grimaced as the hammering sensation in my head became more frequent. My hands clutched my head and I said, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Michael. I can't stop it. I feel like my brain is slowly ripping in half." 

"Maria," he said. He moved to get help, but I latched onto his arm again. His eyes wandered over me as if he expected to see into my head, as if he thought there was a way for him to rip this out of me and contaminate himself with it instead. He said, "I shouldn't have pushed you. You're still too sick." 

"Don't leave me, Michael," I said, squeezing his arm. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to calm the tremors coursing through my body, and went on, "I'm going crazy." 

"You're not crazy." 

Tears trickled down my cheeks and I shook my head, "I hope I am because if I'm not" My voice trailed off, unable to complete the thought out of fear that it would make it that much more real. I might not have understood the full meaning of my dreams, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that the gist of it didn't sound promising for anyone, especially Michael. God, Michael. I couldn't bare it. "Please don't leave me. Promise me." 

I tightened my grip on his shirt, wishing the foreboding sensation out of my gut and into captivity within the flannel fabric. It didn't work. This was wrong-being with Michael, his involvement with the key, Isabel and Liz and Jesse and everything else. Incredibly, insufferably, irrevocably wrong. A deep, awful, primitive terror gripped all of me: ice like artic frost traced a line of fire down my spine, chilling everything in its path. My vision darkened to the point where I was literally bathing in darkness and the warning bells went off in my head screeching out until I fastened my hands over my ears to make it stop. It didn't help. It couldn't because the noise was coming from inside my mind, taunting me, reminding me of things that I wanted to forget. If only I could. If only. 

_Jesse's dead. Jesse's dead. Jes-se's de-ad. Michael could be next. Mich-ael-coul-d di-eeeee. Never let that happen. Nev-er. Ne-ver let that hap-pen. _I breathed at this pace. I let out loud hisses as each thought ran through my mind in Buddhist chant formation. I repeated loudly, blocking out the whirr of the mantra behind my eyes, "Promise me you won't leave!" 

"Maria," he repeated, this time barely more than a whisper. His face appeared gentler than normal and he kissed my hand. He stated, "I thought we agreed you were going to stop scaring me." I nodded and he went on, "Do you remember the day you attempted to teach me how to play miniature golf? You were hellbent on the two of us acting like a normal couple and decided that putt-putt golf was the answer to all our problems." 

I refused to acknowledge the alarms going off inside of me, and I forced a small smile. I wanted to reply, "If only it were that simple" but decided to play along with him. I recalled the moment vividly as if it was still occurring and said, "You mean when you pulverized the bucket of golf balls because a six-year-old kicked your ass." 

"He was cheating. I'm sure of it." 

A laugh escaped from my lips. Michael's voice was inside my head, amused and tender, drowning out the venom that the Meddecchi and the dreams were inundating me with. It didn't really matter what Michael and I were talking about, only that he had said something of the normal variety. The sound of his voice was like rediscovering my own sanity. 

For the first time since I had awoken, I noticed how haggard Michael appeared. I asked, "When was the last time you slept?" 

He waved the question off and answered, "I think you need to eat and, when you feel up to it, I'll take you downstairs to fill the rest of us in on what happened. Liz offered what information she could remember, but she's been a wreck since you collapsed. She hasn't been making any sense. She wanted to sit with you, but Max didn't think it would be a good idea." His fingers instinctively drew small doodles along the top of my hand and arm as he added, "Kyle cooked what he refers to as the Valenti mystery omelet. I'll bring some up for you." 

A gurgle in my stomach induced a guttural groan at the prospect of food. I had no appetite, no interest in anything of nutritional variety or sustenance in general for that matter. I replied, "I think I'd rather chew on my socks than eat anything that Kyle cooked, and I use that term loosely. Jim filled me in on some of Kyle's forays in the kitchen." 

"I guess I could whip you up a sandwich?" Michael suggested with an almost evil glint in his eyes. 

I immediately flashed on Michael in his kitchen while he prepared a turkey sandwich with "all the necessities"-Tabasco, lettuce, onions, and marshmallow. Revolting. I commented, "It's mighty brave of you to label one of your concoctions a sandwich." 

"You've got to eat, Maria." 

"You sound like my grandmother," I replied, shuddering at the image of Michael sporting a muumuu when it popped into my head. I added, "I'm not hungry." 

"I don't care." 

"What are you going to do? Force feed me." 

"Don't think I won't." 

"You haven't slept in days, have you?" 

"Stop changing the subject." 

"Says the master." 

"Don't worry about me." 

"But I do. The key is depleting your life force. It's going to kill you," I said matter-of-factly, recollecting the reason I had agreed to this stupid mission in the first place. Gram said that my friends would surely die, specifically that Michael would succumb to the power of the key, and I wasn't going to let that happen. No one else was going to die. This stupid craziness couldn't steal anyone else away from me. I reached out to touch the key, but Michael pushed my hand away. I frowned and said, "I can't lose you, Michael. Not like that." 

"You won't lose me, Maria. I promise, okay? Now you need to make me a promise. Swear you'll stop scaring me like this. I'll go get you something to eat and while I do that you rest." 

"I-I'm not-this is wrong," I responded, looking around the room as if I expected Isabel to jump out of the woodwork, grab Michael, and take him away from me. 

"What does that mean?" he asked. When I didn't answer, he shook me gently, "Maria? Maria, stay with me." 

"It's not me. It can't be, right? Otherwise, why am I still here?" 

"Jesse saved your life." 

His words didn't register properly, sounding like a radio station when you've driven out of range. I shook my head, overwhelmed by everything, worried about everyone. I suddenly had a great deal of respect for Max and all the things he used to deal with. "It's supposed to be me, but it's not. I got him killed, Michael. It's my fault," I replied. My words came out slowly and far apart, as if I had suffered from a stroke. I held onto Michael as tightly as I could and repeated more fervently, "It's my fault." 

"It's not your fault, Maria. Do you hear me? It's not your fault." 

_He's lying. He knows it, you know it, and the others know it. You were too late, too slow. Jesse's dead and it's your fault_, a voice taunted me from the depths of my subconscious. 

I covered my face with my hands and tried to make the voice go away, seeking some sort of mental antidote that would help me compose myself before things spun further out of control. I wasn't sure when the tears stopped flowing or how Michael ended up kissing my forehead, but upon realization, I didn't do anything to stop it. In the same fashion that the sorrow took over, it washed away. I knew Michael was freaking out. His eyes were unable to conceal his worries that I was suffering from a psychotic breakdown, and I hugged him to me. I kissed his neck and whispered, "Don't worry. I'm going to fix this." I said it with a forced bravado, a confidence I didn't possess yet, hoping for some sort of sign from above that provided me with all the answers. A sage of sorts that set me on the correct path. 

_It wasn't supposed to be this way_, I remembered. None of this should've happened. I shouldn't have been there. Thoughts jumbling together, guilt coursing through my veins, and dreams flittering away. I tightened grip around Michael's waist and thought of Jesse. During one of our long drives he had asked me what made me fall for Michael, when I knew it was real. I had scoffed at the idea, saying that I still didn't know if it was real and for him to keep his eyes on the road. Jesse had given me that look, that certifiably Jesse-look, and replied, "We are our choices, Maria. You love him. You chose to come with me, to help Michael. That's real. Our choices are real." Again I had scoffed at him. I had rolled my eyes and pretended his words didn't penetrate. Damn Jesse. Even in death, he was haunting me with his penchant for clichés. 

_"We are our choices, Maria."_

Jesse's voice blended with Gram's. _"Their fate is in your hands."_

I let go of my hold on Michael and stared at him as if I had just seen someone walk on water. It wasn't the clarity I prayed for, but it was a start. I knew that I couldn't hide from destiny anymore. I had made a career of it, one of the few things I was skilled at, running in the opposite direction of anything that I deemed important in my life. I talked myself out of taking risks, of following my heart, and believing in fate because I was scared. Michael never let fear stop him. He did what he had to do to survive, damn the consequences until later. Jesse was the same way-following his heart, never backing down from a challenge, and trusting that I would help him. And, in that nanosecond of time, I knew. I knew that I couldn't afford to be scared any longer. Everyone, whether they knew it or not, was counting on me. 

_"We are our choices, Maria."_

I made out a clear patch in my mind through the fog. There it was like the sunlight peaking through the dark clouds of a storm. A possibility. It was risky and it wouldn't be an easy thing, but there it was. My chance to make things right. 

"Focus on getting better," Michael replied as he grabbed my shoulders, steadying me, but I didn't require steadying. There was something peculiar in his voice, something unnerving, a tone I had never heard from him before. Hysteria. 

"I'm fine. Really-" I paused and there was a voice. A different one this time. Gone were the ominous words, replaced with what felt like sweet nothings whispered in my ear. I smiled against the sound in my head. With the same fervor that the foreboding of more death lingered around me, I felt an inexplicable optimism, not blindly, but assuredly, and knew that success was not unattainable. It would be a hard road and the ultimate end would be shaped out of every decision I made along the way, but if I believed, if I tried, really tried, I could do this. I could save Michael and the others and keep my promise to Jesse. 

_"You may yield it once everything is returned, but not before then. The key is the final piece of the puzzle. Add it too soon and the answer will be unattainable. You must trust that the answer is before you at all times."_

Gram's words floated through my mind as I reached out to touch the key again, but before Michael could push my hand away, I stopped myself. I said, "The answer." 

"What?" 

_"Everyone will be better off once you figure out what you want and why you want it. You're here with me, but it's like you're not really here, not completely, and maybe that's because your destiny lies elsewhere."_

"Jesse said that I needed to figure out what I wanted. I've always known what I wanted, Michael, but something's always stopped me. I tried to blame it all on you, but it wasn't your doing. It's never been you. I mean, you chose me over going home and that still wasn't enough," I laughed mirthlessly, eliciting a strained smile from Michael, placating me, frightened that I was going to hurt myself. He feared that I planned to jump out the window and fly off into eternity. He looked into my eyes and saw the darkness too, but he couldn't comprehend what it meant. Not to me anyway. 

It wasn't that I wanted to die. I wasn't carrying around a book of Sylvia Plath poems, dressing entirely in black, and writing songs about the horrors of living. I loved living. It was rarely effortless, especially without Michael there to hold me when the world got overwhelming, but I couldn't imagine not breathing, absorbing, feeling. No, I didn't want to die, but death was an inevitable part of life and something I was always acutely aware of, long before Alex died and I was confronted with my own fleeting mortality. And the answer was there. I felt it, I breathed it like oxygen. It was my sacrifice to make and it struck me how odd that seemed. As if death was a choice to be made, how funny to decide such things, like which movie to rent on a Friday night from the video store. 

I smiled at Michael. A different smile than ever before, hoping to convey everything so he wouldn't be scared, and continued, "I know I hurt you when I did that. Every night since then, I've wondered why. Why did I push you away when you're the only real thing in my life? Now I know the answer." 

"It doesn't matter," he said, unblinking, staring at me with unabashed suspicion and worry. 

"This is my fight. Not yours." 

"Your fights are my fights, Maria. Isn't that what you've always told me?" 

I ran my hands through his hair, memorizing the texture of it, and said, "Why do you pick now to listen to me." 

"I've always listened-even when I didn't like what you were saying, I listened," he paused and tugged on my hair gently. It garnered him the evil eye and he said, "Unless wrestling was on, of course." 

I giggled, "Of course." 

"So we're in this together." 

"We can't be, Michael." 

"I'm more stubborn than you, so let's see how long that lasts." 

I groaned, pretending that I didn't love Michael for what he was saying, what it meant in regards to our relationship and in the big scheme of things. I wasn't sure who I was fooling so I motioned to the floral bedspread and attempted to change the subject, "How did you guys end up in this place?" 

"Kyle helped this guy that was stranded on the road with his car. We asked if he knew of any cheap motels and he told Kyle to use his grandmother's place. She died a few months ago and he hadn't sold it yet." 

I nodded with a small smile. My eyes darted around the room and I noticed the camper's bag Jesse and I had stumbled upon in the caverns. I had no idea how it had gotten here. Neither Jesse nor I had taken it with us, too caught up in the unfolding events regarding a fluttering eye in a bowl and then Gram, the hologram from hell. I stared at it for a second before instinct kicked in. I hopped up and emptied its contents on the comforter. The relic was not there, but everything else was as I remembered it from the caverns-it even landed in the same formation. The wind whipped in through the curtains and caused a piece of paper to dance around me. I snatched it out of the air and my eyes widened when I realized it was the same one from before. The Congo Chemicals invoice. I muttered, "Earl Monet. He's involved. I knew it." 

_"You should trust no one. They will be used against you before this journey is over."_

"Who is Earl Monet? Is he the one that-" 

"How did this bag get here?" I interrupted. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Where did this bag come from, Michael?" 

"You had it with you." 

"No, I didn't." 

"Yeah, you did. Liz said she saw you drop it when you got here, before you rushed to Jesse's side." 

"This isn't my bag." 

"What?" 

"Michael, I'm beginning to wonder about your stunted vocabulary," I replied, slowly piecing together a puzzle with a picture I wasn't particularly fond of. 

"It has to be your bag. Why would Liz lie?" 

It was the same question I was asking myself and none of the answers I was coming up with were very pleasing. My legs wobbled slightly and I wondered how I hadn't seen it sooner. I knew something was off. How had I not seen it sooner? "Oh God." I rummaged through the bag. I found a notebook that hadn't been in the bag when I was in the caverns and opened it up. It was her writing on the inside cover. Page after page after page of absolutely nothing except huge X's across the center. Until I flipped to the back of the spiraled book. On the back cover, casing the entire thing, was the drawing from my dream. The diagram with all the lines and the page before it had been ripped out, only a small corner of it was left with the words "Nasfarat medulica" written in the tiniest of scrawl and a partially scratched out sentence that appeared to say, _"but the answer will be obvious to her. Must destroy her first."_

I ran my fingers over the words, imprinting them to memory, and it struck me how absurd I must have seemed to Michael. It was funny to think that in that moment in time Michael was the normal one, the least likely target for catastrophic events. Who would've thought that I had such karma lurking inside me? 

"Jesse would want you to rest," Michael said in a placating tone. 

"Huh?" I replied, glancing at the words again. I said, "I made a promise to him, Michael. I can't let him down." 

"It's a stupid book bag." 

"No, it's not. This is-" I stopped and thought back to the caverns when I first found the bag. I had pulled out a torn off scrap of paper that discussed the history of the Nagi people and the Holy Trinity. The last part had been cut off-but what had it said? I mumbled under my breath, "Think McFly, Think!" 

Then it hit me. 

_"Certain death to those that trespass that do not belong. Must find the chosen ones first. The answer is in the most unlikely of places, but-but the answer will be obvious to her. Must destroy her first."_

The notebook slipped out of my hands and my eyes shot around the room cautiously, expectantly, and the clickety-clack started once again. I forced it aside, told myself that the pain didn't matter, channeling my inner sports guru and thinking, "No pain, no gain. No pain, no gain. No pain, no gain. Ouch. Definitely pain. Helluva lot of pain. There better be some damn gain soon." I heard voices. Not inside my head, but in the landing downstairs. I crept across to the door, cracking it open slightly, and peeked down. Max and Kyle were blocking Liz from the stairs, explaining that it was best to leave this part to Michael right now. Liz was determined to get up the stairs though and I knew it wouldn't be long. 

I tried to ignore the way Michael was peering at me, as if I had to be handled, as if he was sent in to stall me until the men in white coats came to drag me away. I crept back over to the bed and paced the floor, "What am I going to do? How? How did they get to her?" 

"We're not sure. The only thing we can think is that Isabel and Lonnie-" 

"What?" I asked, my head snapping up and focusing on Michael. He started to respond, but I pointed at him and said, "That's right. Lonnie. She's the one who gave you the key." 

"Yeah, but-" 

"We've got to get out of here, Michael," I replied. The pounding in my head was getting harder to ignore, but I pushed past it and started opening drawers, tossing random slips and sweaters about. 

"Maria, what's going on? Let me get Max." 

"You can't. We can't trust him, Michael." 

"Look. I know you're upset about Jesse and this thing with Isabel-" 

"It wasn't Isabel." 

"What?" 

"It was her." 

"You're not making sense, Maria." 

"I can't explain this to you, Michael. Not yet. But I sure as hell can't leave you here with-I don't know what's going on. I don't know why this happened." 

Michael pulled me away from the bureau and gripped my shoulders. He shook me gently and said, "You're not well, Maria." 

"She wants you to think that." 

"Who is she?" 

I laughed bitterly and said, "Liz. It's her, but it's not her." 

"Maria." 

"I'm telling the truth." 

"I know that you think it's the truth, but Liz would never hurt you." 

"I never thought Isabel would shoot Jesse either," I snapped. Michael winced against the harshness of my words, but I refused to apologize or make light of what happened. 

"Liz isn't the enemy." 

"Stop talking at me like I'm paranoid." 

"You've been through a lot. I understand why you would be suspicious of everyone." 

"I'm not making this up!" I stared at him, longing to know how to convey every emotion swallowing me up. I took a deep, fortifying breath and said, "You don't have to believe me yet, but try to trust me. Something's going on, Michael. First Isabel and now Liz. Something happened to them in those caverns. There's a reason that Lonnie gave you that key. I need to think. But not here. We're not safe." 

"How do you know you can trust me?" 

_"You should trust no one. They will be used against you before this journey is over."_

"I don't," I answered simply. I reached up on my tip-toes and kissed his lips briefly. It was one of those incredibly cheesy moments where our eyes met and I felt nothing but love for him. "But I have to believe in someone and I've invested over five years in you, pal." 

Michael nodded. He didn't say anything and his face was unreadable. He probably had no idea what to say. Instead he nodded and started going through the closet. He called over his shoulder, "What are we looking for exactly?" 

"The relic." 

"What's the relic?" 

"I had it with me when I came," I replied. Panic set in. What if she had gotten her hands on it? Did she know what it was? Or was Michael right and I was paranoid? Was I creating a bigger threat, looking for ways to isolate myself from my friends? But there was the notebook and the bag that she had lied about and the secret handshake that she didn't remember back in the cavernsand Isabel's zombie look. Was Isabel under some sort of mind control? All these questions ran through my mind and the only thing I was certain of was that Michael and I had to find the relic and get out of there. 

"Gram?" I called out. 

"Who the hell is Gram, Maria?" Michael stopped searching the closet and looked around the room, "Is he here with you now?" 

I laughed through the heat behind my eyes. This further befuddled Michael who glanced at the door nervously, as if he had to call for backup to restrain me. I said, "No, Michael. I'm not completely nutters yet." I took a deep breath. I couldn't feel my body, but I knew it was there. I said almost inaudibly, "Don't hate me for dragging you into this." 

"I couldn't if I tried, Maria, and believe me, _I've tried_." 

"I know. Me too." 

"Maria." 

I loved how he said my name, so simple and undaunted, and I always had. It could reduce me to a puddle of goo, infuriate me, and make me feel infinite. In that moment, I could face anything, confront whatever awaited me outside that door because my clothes smelled of Michael and the sound of my name on his lips was pressed into the spindles of my memory. It was odd to say, but Michael's presence calmed me. I never thought it was possible, seeing as no one incensed me in quite the manner that he could, but I was at peace with my task. 

The _if you build it, they will come _idea popped into my head. I figured it was worth a shot and the quicker we got away from Liz, the safer we would be. I closed my eyes and snapped my fingers. The relic, which had been resting on the opposite bureau on the other side of the room, flew through the air and landed on the bed quietly. I ran over to it and picked up it. I stuck it inside the elastic waist of my pants and called out again, "Gram?" 

A pop sounded out and Gram appeared, floating next to me on the bed, and said, "Feeling better, master?" 

I groaned and said, "I've been better." 

Gram glanced at Michael whose mouth appeared to be stuck in the open position and said, "I see you have retrieved the key." 

"Yes." 

"He is an odd creature. Not of this earth." 

"Yeah, he's a strange one." 

"Hey-" 

I held up my hand and said, "But it's not because he's not of this earth." 

"What's going on?" Michael asked. He rubbed his eyes as if he expected Gram to disappear and then he glared at me as if I had put some sort of hex on him. When I didn't say anything, he repeated in a cross manner, "What's going on?" 

"Who are you? Marvin Gaye?" I countered. I pointed to Gram and said, "This is Gram. Jesse and I found him in the caverns. He grows on you, like fungus." 

"Lucky you," Michael replied. 

Gram looked at the two of us and said, "You cannot use the key yet, master. It is the third and final piece. If you were to add it now it would be cataclysmic." 

"And what about his health?" 

"It's depleting. He will be dead by tomorrow night if this is not resolved. But you know that," Gram said impassively. He floated across the room and stopped in front of Michael, studying him carefully before saying, "He knows that too." 

"You'll have to excuse Gram. He's rather fond of hyperbole." 

"You know I am not, Master. If the Meddecchi is the first to gather the pieces, he will die and the Gantuk will rise." 

"After this is over, I'm enrolling you in an optimism seminar, Gram" I replied, stepping between Gram and Michael. I took Michael's hand in my own and said, "We need to get out of here." 

"You are still quite ill, master," Gram stated with indifference. "To carry this load will harm you." 

"Michael comes or I don't go at all." 

He motioned to Michael and said, "It is most likely too late for him, Master. The energy of the key is already embedded into his system, suffocating his organs. It would be best to leave him." 

"No." 

"The Meddecchi has attacked you through the amulet once already. In a weakened state, I cannot guarantee you'll live." 

"Splendid," I said. 

Michael squeezed my hand and asked, "Does he ever have anything nice to say?" 

"Well, I can't be sure, but I think he remarked on how nice your ass looked in those jeans when we arrived," I commented. 

Michael's mouth dropped slightly and Gram looked downright offended. "I am a messenger of time. I do not involve myself in such trivial things." 

I shrugged, "Right. That was my thought. My bad." I heard Liz's voice over the others and a clatter of feet on the stairs. I said, "She knows. Gram now." 

"Master, I implore you to reconsider." 

"We have to leave." 

"And go where?" 

I glanced at Michael who was staring at me expectantly, as if he was simply there to blow things up if they got too close to me and to keep me from mental psychosis. I answered, "To Volondra." I nudged Michael in the side as Gram snapped his fingers and I mumbled, "Forgive me for this." I closed my eyes and summoned up all the energy I could muster. My heart exploded beneath my skin, sending shivers and shakes coursing through my nervous system, and my head pounded. No longer a clickety-clack, but the droning clang sound of a large church bell. 

The rainbow of colors from before whirled in through the open window and encircled the three of us. I tightened my hold on Michael's hand and shouted through the windy racket, "Don't let go. No matter what." 

"I don't plan to," I heard him shout out to me. 

We landed on a deserted street, which seemed odd considering it was still daylight. The wind howled around us and my head was numb. The pounding had stopped, but there was something else, something strange, like a fish swimming through my brain. I was suddenly exhausted. I held onto the relic and Michael's hand. He was muttering obscenities under his breath so I knew he was okay. 

Relief washed over me, but was quickly replaced with exhaustion. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was vaguely aware that we were still in the street and that a car could hit us, but I couldn't move. 

I felt a foot dig into my leg and I thought it was Michael at first until I realized I was still holding his hand. I gathered all my energy and propped myself up. I squinted upward, but the person's face was blocked by the sunlight. 

Michael jumped up and it was when she replied, that I knew who it was. She said, "I've been expecting you for awhile, Maria, though I didn't anticipate this loser accompanying you." 

"Lonnie," I squeaked out before my arms gave out and I fell back onto the black concrete. Michael called out my name and I remembered thinking that this was becoming habit for the two of us before passing out. 

_(to be continued...) - coming soon_


	9. Part Nine Volandra's Place

**A/N:** So here's chapter nine of the story after a very long time. First, I have to give a huge thanks tosvmadelyn for organizing the WIP Pact on livejournalbecause I'm certain that's the only reason there is not only an update, but the story is finished! Second, to Steph for her continuous great beta work and looking after my comma problem.

**A/N # 2:** This is dedicated to my partners in crime through this thing, the A-Teamgirls from the pact, for all their support throughout the writing huckering down time!

**A/N # 3:** The remainder of the story is done, and I'll be posting as I finish the edits/beta work. So there shall be no really long waits anymore, I swear (well, not on this story).

**A/N # 4:** Crossposted to my website and livejournal. Anywhere else, ask first. Feedback always appreciated.

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**Part Nine – Volandra's Place**

I woke up in another bare room that reeked of mildew and lack of options. More time had passed though I had no idea how much. There were no clocks and there was no daylight. I looked around as everything flooded back to me, but rather than falling back into bed and trying to wish it away, I felt strangely calm. The desperation of before faded into the background, taking the Meddecchi's pronouncements with it. With it gone, I could remember the person I was. Not the girl who didn't go with her friends in the first place. Not the one who ran off to Boston but could never quite get away. Definitely not the weak-willed person that had watched as Jesse was gunned down – I didn't fight back or save him and I would never understand how I could've allowed that to happen.

That pea-pod version that had been holding me hostage was gone and all that was left was the Maria Deluca of before. I was tough and didn't take crap from anyone, especially when he messed with my friends. I moved pass insurmountable grief to a rage that I hadn't felt since Tess murdered Alex. Jesse, Liz, Isabel…whoever was behind the things that had happened to them was going to wish they were never born. I would see to it.

For the first time since Jesse and I began our journey, I felt confident and clear. There was something almost comforting in realizing my destiny. Finally, there was a purpose, albeit very surreal, to my life and all those damn mistakes I made along the way. After all, they made me into the woman I was, and something in my gut told me that was what I would need to fight the Meddecchi in the end.

I glanced at my appearance in the mirror and even my skin seemed to hum with energy, the color having returned to my cheeks. I studied myself, appraising every freckle as I tried to find anything different about myself, the way I used to after my mother explained puberty to me. I kept expecting some sort of neat little explanation for why all of these powers fell into my lap – _of course you're the chosen one, Maria. Look at that perfect physique_ – but it didn't appear, at least not in the mirror. The image reflected back at me was still plain 'ole Maria Deluca. Same as always.

Except, not quite. Jesse was dead. Liz was responsible, and the only ally I had was a hologram. Obviously, I should've looked worse for the wear, or donned a straight jacket.

I heard my stomach grumble, pointing out that it had been days since I had eaten anything, and I spun around when I felt the presence of someone else in the room.

I stumbled back when I noticed Michael staring at me. I clutched my chest and said, "What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?"

"I didn't sneak."

I folded my arms and asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

Michael smirked and said, "I'll never tell."

I rolled my eyes and said, "Figures." I glanced around the room and asked, "Where are we?"

"Lonnie's place."

I nodded and asked, "And where's that?"

"Los Angeles. I'm not sure what the hell you did to get us here, Maria, but it could've killed you."

I waved him off and said, "That's not the problem, Michael."

Michael picked up on my avoidance of the topic at hand. For once, he didn't push it either. Maybe we were finally making progress in this twisted relationship of ours. He stepped across the room until he was next to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and said, "You look a lot better. Whatever Lonnie did, it seems to have worked."

"Where is our hostess with the mostest?"

Michael shrugged and said, "She mentioned something about making sure we were safe."

"She left?"

"We're okay, Maria. I had my doubts, but she helped me take care of you yesterday when you passed out again." He stared at me in a way that I wasn't used to and finally added, "I really don't like this sudden urge of yours to keep fainting."

"You're not the only one," I muttered. I glanced at myself in the mirror again and said, "But I feel better than I have since before this whole mess started. I don't know if Lonnie did something or…" I paused mid-sentence as it hit me. I pointed at Michael and gasped, "Michael, you're not blue anymore!"

He raised his eyebrow and replied, "Just noticing that?"

"I guess so and…" I stopped talking and practically tackled him as I threw my arms around his neck. I held on tight until he pried himself away and I said, "I thought the key couldn't be removed until—"

"—until all three pieces have fallen into place?"

Both Michael and I turned around. Lonnie stood there with a bored look on her face and I momentarily wondered if she was capable of anything other than indifference. Michael placed his arm over me protectively as though Lonnie was the one to blame for everything that had gone down. I glanced at him and then to her. I said, "You're a chosen one, aren't you? That's why you pawned the key off on Isabel – hoped they would go after her instead of you."

Lonnie rolled her eyes and motioned for us to follow her. I sighed and pulled Michael along behind me. If this was ever going to end, I needed to know what I was facing. I needed Lonnie, god help me.

I took a seat on a velvet red couch next to Michael while Lonnie plopped down in a brown leather chair with patches of stuffing sticking out at various places. Yard sale chic ambiance with cracked walls and chipped paint that could almost pass for experimental art.

Never one for patience, Michael draped his arm behind me and said, "Start explaining what you did, Lonnie."

Lonnie sighed and shot me a "what do you see in him" look, probably trying to figure out how much like her boy, Rath, he was. The thought of that freaked me out and I snuggled in closer to Michael. If he figured out my motivation, he didn't let on. The sure sign that I had scared the hell out of him – he was letting me be clingy. Lonnie looked from me to Michael and back to me. Rather than explaining anything, she asked, "You've had the dreams, haven't you?"

I blinked, trying to keep the wave of hysteria that surrounded those dreams from invading my mind once again. Lonnie didn't give me a chance to answer. She leaned back in her chair, lifting her legs off the floor and under her, and went on, "They started for me last year. I thought maybe it was some sick thing from Kivar or Nicholas—"

"Nicholas is dead."

Lonnie smirked at Michael. She tilted her head and said, "The things that the four of you believe would be funny if they weren't so sad."

"You're saying he's alive?"

Lonnie shrugged and replied, "I'm saying that trying to use the Gantuk to control the universe seems like a very Nicholas sort of thing to do."

"But not Kivar? You're telling me he was happy just ruling over our world?" Michael countered.

I didn't want this to go off on some alien tangent. That wasn't the most important thing at the moment. Once the Gantuk was taken care of and things were back to some semblance of normal, the two of them could argue for the rest of their lives. I snapped, "What does this have to do with the trinity or me?"

"Kivar craves power, I'll give you that, but he doesn't think that big. Never has, never will. Nicholas on the other hand…" Lonnie paused, a weird grin forming on her face that freaked me out a bit, and glanced upward. She said, "He was never happy being the second in command." She focused her gaze on Michael and added, "I'm sure you'd understand that if you weren't so infested with humanity."

Before Michael could get angry and do something stupid, I spoke up, "The dreams started a few months ago."

"And it always goes the same way, doesn't it?" Her eyes flickered to Michael for a nanosecond and she said, "You're told to make a choice."

I nodded and said, "The ultimate sacrifice."

Michael turned to look at me. He frowned and said, "I don't like the sound of that."

I replied, "I don't know what it means."

Lonnie's face twisted in what I'm sure she thought was sympathy, but came across more like constipation. She replied, "You're kidding me, right? After everything that's happened, you still can't figure out what's going on? Do you think it's a coincidence that your good pal, Jesse, walked into that coffee shop that day in Boston? That you managed to find Kyle on a subway in New York City? That you're the chosen one and you happened to be in love with the carrier of the amulet?"

"How do you know—" I stopped mid-sentence as Lonnie's word sunk in. I turned to face Michael. His face was expressionless as he tried to process the information. I bit down on my lip and said, "He's not…"

"After the Nagi defeated the Gantuk, they divided up the Power Trinity."

"I heard this part of the story in the caverns with Jesse. Gram told me how it was in the best interest to keep all the parts separated because no sane thing wanted the Gantuk to have an encore performance. I know all of that, but that doesn't mean—there is no way Michael is the carrier of the amulet. Wouldn't that be a little bit too convenient?" my voice trailed off. I had come to Lonnie for answers, but I wasn't prepared to accept what she was saying or what it would mean for Michael and me. I told myself that she was crazy or lying or maybe both, but nothing in her body language made that clear. I reiterated, more for my own peace of mind, "Michael's not the carrier of the amulet." Off the look on Lonnie's face, I called out, "Gram?"

Gram popped out of the air and said, "Master?"

"Did you hear what she said? Is it true?"

Gram moved closer to Michael and sniffed the air. I wondered if he could actually smell anything considering he was a hologram, but the momentary curiosity passed as soon as Gram nodded his head and said, "She speaks the truth, master."

I practically jumped off the couch and said, "Why didn't you explain that to me before?"

"You did not ask, Master."

I folded my arms and said, "But you knew that I was worried about him—"

"Because of the key." Gram turned his attention back to Michael and inspected him before saying, "He seems to have freed himself of the key. That is a dilemma thwarted."

"Gram!"

Michael stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked at all of us and said, "I don't have any amulet. Never have."

Before I could process his words, Lonnie had closed the distance between us and struck Michael's arm with her knife. Michael raised his arm to use his own powers against her, but Lonnie held up her hands. She said, "It had to be done, Michael."

"You had to cut me? What the hell is going on here?" Michael glanced at me and said, "I knew coming to her was a bad idea. Let's just take her back to Max and—"

"We can't go back there, Michael. We can't trust him or the others right now," I stated.

"She stabbed me, Maria. She's a nutjob, just like the other dupes."

Lonnie ignored him and pointed to the bowl. She ordered, "Hold the bowl under his cut and let the blood flow into it."

It wasn't until I heard the word "blood" that I registered what Lonnie had done. I knew Lonnie had cut Michael, but for some reason, until that moment, I didn't comprehend what that meant, that Michael was _bleeding_. I gaped at the sight of Michael's blood and practically pushed Lonnie back as I hollered, "What the hell did you think that you were doing?"

When I didn't move the bowl, Lonnie forced Michael's hand over it. Michael grimaced and there was a strange humming in the air around us. I couldn't decide if it was my imagination or some side effect to dealing with all of this, but energy swirled around us, the type that reminded me of the moments right before a storm. As drops of Michael's blood slid into the bowl, the humming sound became louder. Suddenly the eye on the bowl flickered open. A bright blue light streamed out of the center of the bowl in all directions. I let go of my hold on the bowl, but it rested mid-air and I could almost see the cloud of energy before Michael pushed me behind him, ready to attack.

Lonnie stood between us and the bowl. She pointed to Michael and said, "Don't you get it? _He's_ the amulet. It's his blood. You've had the dreams, Maria. You know what I'm talking about. When his blood is added to the bowl in the caverns, the key can be used to unlock the hidden caverns, caverns where the Gantuk rests."

I shook my head. It wasn't possible. This couldn't be happening. And if that was the case, why hadn't Liz, or whatever was using Liz, already ended things? As though she read my mind, Lonnie said, "They tried Rath…bled him dry in hopes that it would lead them to the bowl."

Michael grimaced and I said, "Then it should've worked, right? I mean, I'm guessing that's how you got the key."

"I was meant to find the key."

"At Rath's expense," Michael muttered.

"It's complicated," Lonnie stated. Her gaze shifted to the door and there appeared to be something in her expression, a palpable fear that I hadn't recognized before.

I felt my gut twist and muttered, "You had to watch it, didn't you? You saw him die."

Lonnie pushed a strand of her hair back. She said, "I'm not like Isabel, Maria. I remember being Volandra. I remember who my loyalty was to, and it sure as hell wasn't Rath. My one concern is for my own safety and getting home."

"Yeah, I think we're all well aware of that," Michael countered. He stared her down and said, "Ava told us what you did to Zan." Michael focused his gaze on me and said, "We can't trust her, Maria. We need to go back to the others."

"I already told you Michael, we can't go back," I replied.

"We can trust her?"

I scoffed and said, "Oh please. I don't trust Lonnie anymore than she trusts me."

"Then why are we here, Maria? What if that thing comes after you again—"

Lonnie laughed. She pointed at us and said, "You haven't told him anything, have you?"

"I didn't have a chance. Everything happened so fast," I said, stuttering over the words and feeling guilty even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I reached for Michael's hand and said, 'What matters right now is that you tell us everything you know."

"Maria…"

I squeezed Michael's hand and glanced at him. I forced a smile and said, "I know what I'm doing here. Trust me, okay?"

Michael motioned to Lonnie and said, "You're not the one I'm having a problem trusting."

"Oh, this is so cute…I might throw up." Lonnie clutched her chest melodramatically. She met Michael's annoyed expression and explained, "What you don't get is that I need Maria as much as she needs me."

Michael rolled his eyes and asked, "Since when?"

"Since these events have unfolded and I realized who the chosen one was. A joke of the fates of time and space, I suppose. I expected it to be one of my alien brethren, you sickeningly human hybrids. My guess was on Isabel. She was from the good batch of aliens – the chosen ones meant to rule. Surely, our people thought she was the only worthy one, but it's been Maria all along. There was a reason that Max saved your friend that day – and it has nothing to do with true love. It has to do with your destiny, Maria."

I didn't know where to begin. I had so many questions and I could only guess that those answers would lead to more questions. None of this made any sense to me. I was having enough trouble wrapping my head around my destiny, but to find out that it was all predetermined long ago, that I was meant to meet the pod squad…my brain was on overload. "You mean Isabel isn't a chosen one? But she wore the glasses and knew—"

"The glasses aren't part of the Trinity."

"That doesn't explain how she knew about it."

"Whoever had control of Isabel thought the same thing that I did—that she had the same powers that I possessed."

"But she's not—"

"Just like Rath wasn't the amulet. Those guys learned that the hard way."

"What guys? Isabel and Liz?"

"Their infection only occurred recently. They were fine when I saw them."

"I don't understand this." I turned to face Gram and said, "You told me that Meddecchi was in possession of the amulet. If it was Michael—"

"The Meddecchi uses others – he can take them over," Gram stated.

I glanced at Lonnie and then Michael. I said, "I'm not sure that makes sense though. At the time I came into possession of the sacred relic, the Meddecchi had the amulet. Isabel and Liz weren't with Michael though. How could they—"

Lonnie frowned. It appeared that she hadn't thought about that. I was torn between savoring the moment as the look of superiority vanished from her face and an intense anxiety that if she didn't know what was going on, we were all doomed.

Gram spoke up. "Seeing as the amulet is this creature's blood, it would make sense, master."

"And how's that?" Michael asked.

When Gram remained silent, I turned to Michael and said, "Sorry, he only talks to the chosen one."

"Oh, of course," Michael muttered.

I stared down at Gram and asked, "Explain that please."

Gram pointed to Michael and said, "As long as the Meddecchi is aware of the amulet and has the power to control someone near to it, it is possible that he is able to use it. Since the amulet is a living creature, he can tap into its energy force. Use it to come after you." Gram moved over next to me and touched my head. He went on, "Why do you think the pain vanished when you arrived here? Have you felt the Meddecchi's presence in your head since you woke up?"

I shut my eyes. I had felt empowered when I had woken up, had thought that maybe I was ready to face this mess, conquer the bad guy, and save the day. Turned out it was Michael's presence all along. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"It's because Michael was with me?"

Gram nodded and said, "Even though you were not utilizing him, he was in your possession. You controlled all three pieces of the trinity and that shut the Meddecchi out."

"If I was some sort of amulet, then why did I turn blue when I put the key around my neck?"

"You're the amulet, not a chosen one," Lonnie responded with frustration oozing out of each syllable as she spoke.

"And I didn't have the relic yet. The key is the last piece of the trinity. It could only be removed once the other two pieces were in our possession." I replied. I had a hang on that part of the situation. It was everything else that was messing me up. I shook my head the way I used to when there was water in my ears. That was how I felt right then. Like I wasn't hearing things quite right. I let out a slow breath and glanced at Michael. I said, "That still doesn't explain why Liz or the Meddecchi didn't finish me off after I was shot. They would've had access to all three pieces too. Didn't it know that Michael was the amulet?"

"The Meddecchi knows it's in the blood of the second in command. Like I said, he thought Rath would work, but now he knows better. You were right to bring Michael with you, Maria. You need to keep trusting your instincts."

I wasn't sure how much of bringing Michael along had to do with instincts rather than the all-consuming need I felt to keep him with me. I sighed and asked, "So why didn't the Meddecchi make a move while I was out of it?"

No one, not even Gram, offered up an explanation. It didn't make sense. If this Meddecchi was so strong, wanted the power so badly, why hadn't it made its move when it had the chance? Was this some sort of game? Probably – anything to keep making me doubt myself.

I stood there, studying one of the cracks on the wall, and remembered what Gram had shown me and Jesse in the caverns. I stepped over next to Gram and asked, "I know you can access things that are going on right now, but do you have some sort of memory bank? A way to replay a conversation that took place in the past?"

Gram stared at me and said, "I have access to whatever you need to enable your journey, Master."

"I want to see the conversation between my friends, Isabel and Liz, that you showed me and Jesse in the caverns. The one from when they were being held hostage," I stated.

Gram snapped his finger and disappeared with a pop. On the wall, the scene I had already watched before played for us.

_"It'll be okay," Liz whispered, trying to move her chair closer to Isabel. Her hair was a short reddish color that I imagined probably suited her under normal circumstances. At the moment, it was mangy and oily, from days of no management. Her bottom lip was swollen and it matched the bruises on Isabel's cheek._

_Isabel shook her head, "They're going to kill them. I saw it."_

_"You're imagining things."_

_"Why are you saying that? Have they gotten to you?"_

I grimaced at this part – the horrified look on Isabel's face, the oddly calm expression that Liz wore. It made some sort of sick sense now. I had been too late to keep whatever had taken over Liz from invading Isabel's mind. That was my fault. I was so caught up in bickering with Jesse and worrying about Michael – Isabel wasn't the only one with Jesse's blood on her hands.

Michael must have noticed my guilt because he inched closer to me and squeezed my shoulders as the conversation continued to play…

_Liz patted her friend's leg comfortingly and said, "You're hysterical, Isabel. You need to calm down and tell me what's happening. Max will bring the key and we'll be let go. That's what they want, right?"_

_"No, no, no," Isabel sobbed. Her eyes moved quickly over the room as if she knew that their conversation was being listened to. She said, "He will rise, won't he?"_

_Liz smiled reassuringly, "Everything will work out." She patted Isabel's leg again as Isabel struggled against her words. Liz said, "I saw this, Isabel. I saw us here and we survive. We have to hang in there. You have to trust me with what you've been keeping to yourself. Tell me what's going on with this key."_

_"I can't, Liz. I can't! He's going to die. I know you saw it too! They're both going to die and it's our fault."_

_"No one is going-"_

_"Lonnie knows. She saw it too and that's why she gave us that stupid key. We would be safe if it weren't for her!" Isabel sobbed._

_"Max will find us, Isabel."_

_"Not if they get to him. They have ways."_

_"They won't."_

_"They got to us. They'll get him and then the others. And once they've got all of us, they're going to kill everyone else! It's too late. Too late and there's no hope." Liz stared at her as if she were trying to read Isabel's mind. Isabel's eyes shut against the intensity of Liz's line of vision and she mumbled in an exhausted tone, her words nothing more than exaltations, "No hope."_

When the conversation ended, Gram reappeared and asked, "Was that helpful, master?"

I turned to face Michael and Lonnie. My eyes traveled over both of them and I asked, "Why did you give them the key, Lonnie?"

"I told you. I didn't want any part of this mess. I'm all about survival."

"Then why help me?" I asked, my hands going to my hips reflexively. I glared at her and ordered, "Tell me what's going on."

Lonnie waved her hand in front of her face. She said, "I'm guessing Isabel and I have the same sort of dreaming abilities – we're connected by our DNA, by our powers. It's the same dream that you've had, Maria. The same one where the same people die. It never changes because that is how it's destined to go."

I swallowed thickly and replied, "That's not going to happen."

"It has to."

I shook my head and replied, "Like hell. We've got to think outside the box on this one, Lonnie. I'm not going to lose anyone else to this madness."

"It's not your choice to make, Maria. He's the amulet. His blood allows the key to work. How did you think this was going to play out? What did you think the ultimate sacrifice was?"

Michael seemed to understand what was going on. He turned me to face him and said, "Maria, if something has to happen to one of us—"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Michael. God, you always have to put yourself in the line of fire, don't you? It's like…"

I noticed a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he responded, "…like my destiny?"

I narrowed my eyes until they were nothing more than little slits. I shook my head and said, "This is serious. Why does it have to be you, huh?"

"Do you think I like the idea of you being in danger? I'm trying to come to terms with these feelings of powerlessness because there's nothing I can do to change it, or what you have to do. All I can do is keep you safe and help you see this through."

"I'm not going to do this if it means hurting you, Michael," I stated

"I'm not sure either of us has a choice, Maria," Michael stated calmly. I hated when he got like that – resolute in his destiny – and wished I could shake it out of him.

"Yes, we do. I can choose not to do anything rather than use your blood to open some sealed cavern that's been keeping a power hungry loon imprisoned." I turned away from him and stared at Lonnie. I asked, "Why would they put the amulet inside him? Why would they sacrifice one of their own?"

Lonnie looked down and then at Michael. She said, "Because it was considered a great honor to be chosen for such a sacrifice and he was a warrior in our world. His destiny has always been to die to protect the inhabitants of the universe. And yours is to finish this."

"And what if I can't?"

"Then the Meddecchi will catch up with you. It will kill you, and then use Michael to open the cavern anyway. You'll die in vain and the entire universe will suffer for it." She said it so simply, without histrionics, that it almost could've been disregarded. Almost.

I sighed. It didn't seem like the proper response, to sigh at a time like this, but nothing else came out. I couldn't lose Michael to something like this. I had spent the past few years without him and it was like a death sentence, a half-life with no real purpose. I never planned to be one of those girls, like some Victorian romance novel character who got the vapors and died of a broken heart. Yet, there I was, ready to turn my back on the rest of the universe if it meant Michael would be okay.

I finally had a destiny, it seemed, but I couldn't accept that it involved ending Michael's life. It was wrong. It couldn't be true because if it was, then the universe was created by some screwed up monster that got its kicks from inflicting pain. I bit down on my lip to keep the tears from falling, to somehow force myself to hold it together. I managed, "We don't know that."

"You're forgetting that I saw what they did to Rath."

"Who did it? Do you know who the Meddecchi is?" I questioned.

"It's hard to explain the Meddecchi. It can be so many different things and control so many creatures. I don't know if it was even the Meddecchi that ripped Rath apart," Lonnie replied.

I couldn't stay the calm way she talked about Rath's death, like it was commonplace and no big deal. I shut my eyes as the image of someone doing that to Michael inundated my thoughts. I remembered my dream – how the little boy struck Michael in the chest with the sword and the blood wouldn't stop until Michael was dead, lost in a pool of his own blood. I stepped closer to him as though feeling his breath on my neck would make this nothing more than another one of my nightmares. I gritted my teeth and forced out, "Do you know who killed Rath?"

I heard Lonnie's footsteps and the squeak of the leather as she sat back down. She said, "There were two men…one with a scar—"

"Gasher. It has to be."

Lonnie raised her eyebrow and smirked. "Well, well, it seems you're not as in the dark as you appear."

"Lonnie," Michael warned.

"He was the guy that attacked me in New York. The one…" I paused and focused on Michael. I said, "He was the one that you killed."

"When did you find that out?" Michael questioned. I could hear the agitation in his voice, the unasked questions lingering near the surface – _was this while we were still in New York? Did you choose to trust Jesse over me?_

I focused my attention on Gram and said, "When Jesse and I first got back to Roswell, I remembered how I recognized Gasher. There was a bar I performed at from time to time before I moved to Boston. Gasher was one of the truck drivers that used to frequent the place. We all knew to stay away from him."

"So he's from Roswell?" Michael replied. "Isn't that a bit too coincidental?"

"I don't know. He works for Congo Chemicals."

"How does some truck driver for Congo Chemicals get caught up in any of this? He wasn't an alien. We know that for sure, so how did he end up looking for the key?" Michael asked.

It was a question that I kept wondering too, but I answered, "There was an invoice in the caverns. When Jesse and I went exploring and found the bowl and Gram…"

Gram spoke up, "He was not a chosen one. He had to be removed from the sacred areas."

I nodded at Gram and said, "Jesse said that there have always been rumors of illegal dumping going on in some of the caverns. Who knows what Gasher or anyone else from that company could've stumbled upon if they were in there?"

I noticed the look on Lonnie's face and questioned, "You don't like my idea?"

She smiled smugly and said, "You humans…it's as though what's right in front of you never crosses your minds."

I placed my hands on my hips and glared down at Lonnie. I replied, "Care to elaborate on that?"

Lonnie took a deep breath and let it out as slowly and loudly as possible, in a way meant to convey that I was the biggest imbecile ever. She stood up and said, "You look at the world and see it at as a bunch of random coincidences. You don't get that every single thing that has happened in your life was leading you to this minute. Look around, Maria. Look where you are. Think about everything that has happened – without all of that, would you even be ready for this?"

I mimicked her stance. I was in no mood to be told that I was an idiot. What I needed were answers and for some force to appear and promise me that Michael would be okay. He was the reason behind all of this – the one motivation I had all along. I said, "If you're so knowledgeable about the Gantuk and what's happening…you are a chosen one, right? Why didn't you handle this when you had the chance? Because you were too busy looking out for yourself?"

Lonnie shrugged off my words and said, "You still don't get it."

"Get what?"

Lonnie motioned to Gram and said, "This was all set into motion a long time ago, Maria. Tell me you get that. Tell me you understand that much or we're all screwed."

"Hey, back off," Michael stated. He stood up and put himself between us.

The gesture was sweet, but I didn't have time for an overprotective whatever-he-was. I pushed Michael aside and said, "Gram said as much. That this was decided long ago. But I don't know how that explains anything."

"_You're_ the one that has to do this. You're the only one who can defeat the Gantuk. Not me and certainly not the Meddecchi."

"You're a chosen one too, Lonnie," I countered.

"Yeah, but I'm not the same as you, Maria."

I shook my head and pointed at Gram. I said, "No, that's not what I was told."

"After everything that happened the first time around, when the Gantuk abused the power that the trinity provided him and he was destroyed, the people of the galaxies aided the Nagi," Gram responded, focusing solely on me.

"_The people of the galaxies?_" Michael repeated with a raised eyebrow. I couldn't say I blamed him for his hesitancy to accept this information. It wasn't everyday that a guy found out his girlfriend was actually important to the survival of the world or that he would have to die in order for her to save it…even if he was an alien.

Lonnie rolled her eyes as though what she was about to share with us was common knowledge, as though we were idiots for not understanding what she was talking about. She took a deep breath and answered, "There was a time when the galaxies were sewn together and everyone realized that their survival was interconnected. Why do you think this place was chosen for the Royal Four to come? Because of its wonderful ambiance?"

I glanced at Michael and he shrugged. He said, "We figured they had their reasons."

"It's a wonder you developed your powers at all, Michael," Lonnie snapped. She forced her gaze on me and said, "Our ancestors were put in charge of the amulet and, because of accepting this duty, there would be one in the line that would be able to control the trinity. The Royal family was always responsible for the amulet's safety – but when the kingdom fell, when we were created and put in those pods, they sent the amulet with us to keep it out of Kivar's possession. They chose a form for the amulet that they considered being the safest."

"Then why didn't it work for Rath? Or Isabel?" I asked.

"Our family wasn't stupid. They weren't sure that what they were doing would work, that both sets of us would survive, or who would locate us first. They didn't want the pieces to fall into the wrong hands, so they attempted to make it harder for someone to discover. They made me like the original Volandra – I was the chosen one. They made Michael the amulet, not Rath. It turns out it was a good idea, otherwise none of us would be here right now."

"And you led them right to Michael. Did you know what you were doing?" I replied. Off the look on Lonnie's face, I almost jumped across the distance between us and ripped her apart. The idea that she purposely put Michael into danger, that she put this chain of events into motion that got Liz and Isabel corrupted somehow and Jesse killed, was too overwhelming to properly digest. I felt an anger pulse through me that I had never recalled before.

Before I knew what was happening, the bowl had risen from its resting place. It shook and steam came bursting out of the top like a volcano about to erupt. A gust of wind blew in through the window and knocked Lonnie and her chair over. The wind seemed to focus around her, slapping her around the room. It lifted her off the ground, swirling Lonnie around in the air over and over, knocking her against the ceiling and a wall. She hollered out in pain, but the more she fought against it, the stronger the wind got. It only stopped when Michael shook me.

He said, "Stop it. Stop whatever the hell you're doing before you kill her."

I shut my eyes and clutched my head. I had no idea what was going on, but the power coursing through me was overpowering, what I imagined tripping on drugs for the first time was like – new sensations and delusions of grandeur clouded my head. Michael's fingers squeezed my arm, and I looked up to see the all-too-familiar worried expression embedded on his face. When exactly had our roles reversed?

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Is _she_ okay? She could've killed me," Lonnie replied before I managed to find my voice.

Michael shouted, "Shut up" in her direction, but kept his eyes concentrated on me. He forced a small smile, the typical Michael bravado, and said, "Talk to me, Maria."

"I'm not sure what I—"

Lonnie pushed Michael aside. She placed her hands on my shoulders. She said, "You feel it coursing through you. That's a good thing, Maria."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Michael replied. He stood over the two of us and said, "Whatever that was, Maria, it was not a _good thing_."

Lonnie grabbed my face and said, "Ignore him. You have to focus on me right now. You have to get a grip on the power. If it overtakes you, you'll be no use to any of us."

"What's happening to me?" I gasped out. I felt like the earth was rumbling beneath my feet with each breath that I took. It was as though the ground was responding to the power inside me.

"You've got all the pieces of the puzzle. The relic, the amulet, and the key are all in your possession. The power source has found its conductor."

"Whoopee," I replied, though it was nothing more than an exhalation as I struggled to manage the energy.

"Whatever you're doing to her, stop it, Lonnie. Stop it now," Michael replied.

Lonnie turned to face him and said, "Let me try and get this through your thick skull. Maria needs to do this, she needs to find some way to control the energy, otherwise none of us are going to live for much longer."

"Take the power from her. You're a chosen one, right? Maybe humans can't handle this," Michael replied. He wrapped his arm over my shoulder and guided me to the sofa. He brushed my hair back and said, "It's gonna be okay. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

I smiled at the tenderness in Michael's voice. The words he said might not be true, but it meant a lot to hear him say it, to know that he still cared about me. The thing was that I couldn't let that distract me. Lonnie was right – if I couldn't harness the energy and get my act together, things would spiral further out of control. I'd have no chance to save Michael or the others.

I shut my eyes again. I revisited all those yoga and tai chi classes that my mother used to force me to attend with her (bonding time). Rather than attempting to harness the energy, I allowed it to flow through me and forced my mind to follow it to its center, the drilling rumbling in my gut. I kept my eyes closed for what felt like hours until I felt my body stabilize.

I opened my eyes to see both Michael and Lonnie hovering around me. Michael kissed the top of my head and said, "Good job. The bowl isn't moving anymore."

"Good."

"There's no turning back now, Maria. You know that, right?" Lonnie asked with what almost sounded like pity.

I sighed and said, "I realized that a few days ago. I have to see this thing through. For Jesse."

"What did all of you see in that Boy Scout?"

I raised my finger in warning and said, "Do yourself a favor and stop talking about Jesse." The nerves on my arms tingled and caused the hairs on my arms to shoot up. I shut my eyes and said, "They're coming for us. We've got to get to the caverns." When I opened my eyes, I focused on Lonnie and said, "You need to tell me who the Meddecchi is, Lonnie. Who's using Liz and Isabel like this? Who has that type of power?"

"The Meddecchi could be anyone and I would suggest you start thinking like that. The enemy could be anywhere," Lonnie replied. She glanced around the room. She kept her face neutral, but I could see the fear there. She knew they were coming for us as well as I did. She knew that there was no place that we could truly hide.

"Why wouldn't the Meddecchi come for me himself?"

"You're asking the wrong questions, Maria," Lonnie responded. She glanced at Gram and added, "You need to start thinking like a chosen one and not some normal girl from New Mexico."

I crossed my arms, pretending not to hear Lonnie's disdain as she said _normal_ and pointed to Gram. I said, "What does she mean by that Gram?"

Gram moved over next to me. He said, "The way the chosen ones were decided was simple. One would come from each of the three galaxies that fought against the Nagi. The three would come into their powers at different times, some chosen ones passed down through time, others simply prophesized. The three chosen were you, Volandra, and the Meddecchi."

"So he's not from earth?"

Gram shook his head. "The Meddecchi is not from this dimension at all. Its galaxy subsists on a completely different plane of existence."

"Oh great. That will make this _so_ much easier."

"There is more that you must know, Master."

I looked at Michael and replied, "A few days ago I had to pry information out of him and now he doesn't want to shut up."

"Yeah, I know that feeling," Michael said.

I shot Michael a dirty look and snapped, "You're one to talk and—" I took a deep breath because now was not the time for bickering. I waved my hand in front of my face and added, "Ignoring you now." I shifted my gaze back to Gram and said, "Go on."

"Your friend spoke of complications. That is true. When the Holy Gantuk was overthrown, there were those in each of the galaxies that continued to support him."

"Well, who wouldn't like a mass-murdering, power-hungry freak running things?" I commented. I met Gram's appraising glance and added, "That was sarcasm. You really need to learn about that, Gram, if we're going to work together."

"Master?"

"Nevermind. Keep talking."

"Should the time ever come when the Gantuk would rise again, a choice was made to appease this faction of the universe. After fighting the Gantuk for so long, the Nagi were sure that the peace between the galaxies could not continue to thrive without a compromise. Most did not want the Gantuk back, but to avoid the wrath of those who did, they came up with a plan. There would be one chosen one to defeat the Gantuk, one to aid its return to power, and the other one would be neutral. If and when the universe aligned itself for the chamber to appear—"

"Appear? You mean the chamber wasn't there before?" I asked. I shot a look at Michael who was as curious as I was and at Lonnie who again looked at me like I was the dumbest person alive.

"When the Gantuk was captured within the chamber, it was sealed in a portal outside of space and time. No one knew when it would open, but it was prepared for nonetheless. The chosen would battle and it would be the one in control of the Trinity that would decide how things worked out. His aid would assuredly bring him to power once again, leaving a wake of death and destruction in its path. His adversary, you, would annihilate his resting place and him in the process."

"And the neutral chosen one? Why did we need a neutral one?" I glared at Lonnie and muttered, "Figures it would be her."

"I can control the pieces of the Supremacy Trinity. Like Gram, I have the knowledge to both defeat and help the Gantuk, but even if I wanted to, I have no control over how it will play out. We live in a dualistic universe, Maria. If the advantage was tilted to either side, it could have thrown off the natural balance of things. I can only put the relic, key, and amulet into play – so to speak – to get them to one of the other chosen," Lonnie explained. She studied my face for a time, and I tried not to appear unnerved by how she seemed to be able to read my mind. Her hand moved to her necklace and she said, "That's why I couldn't keep the key. Once the process has begun, I can only help the person who controls the trinity – until then I'm neutral."

"So why help me?"

Michael answered before she could, "Because you have all three parts."

"Why didn't you give me the damn key? Why go through all this…crap…for me to get my hands on it?"

"I didn't know you were the chosen one then. Now that I know and you control the trinity, I'm meant to help you as long as you hold onto the pieces."

I said, "Great. As the neutral one, you'll provide me with the information I need." I rubbed my hands over my eyes and added to no one in particular, "So I have to trust you? Wonderful."

She said, "If it's any consolation, I hope you do this. As much as I hate being here on Earth, I'd prefer not to return to my world to find it ravaged by the Gantuk and his disciples." She stood up and moved over to the window. She stared up at the night sky and said, "When I saw what they did to Rath, I grabbed the key and ran. I didn't know what else to do, so I dreamwalked Isabel and the others to find where they were located. I figured she was like me and could control it. I didn't figure out what the Nagi or even our family had done until a little later."

"You thought Isabel would be neutral too. She wouldn't have been allowed to help Maria," Michael countered.

Lonnie rolled her eyes and said, "Isabel also interacts with humans. All of you do."

"So?" Michael questioned.

"I figured that if anyone could find a way around the rules, it would be her. Love and friendship are strong forms of energy, Michael. Think about your powers – when are they at their strongest? When it involves those you love or the random stranger on the side of the road? Rath, Ava, Zan, and I never developed those types of relationships, not even with each other. We stuck to ourselves, always focused on our plans to get home."

Lonnie paused for a second, choosing her words carefully, before fixing her gaze on me and saying, "I didn't know the first thing about getting the pieces to the right place. I was scared and angry that this was my problem. I did the best I could." She pointed at me and said, "It worked out in the end. It worked out like it was meant to. You found Michael in a city with millions of people because you were supposed to."

There was a humming noise buzzing in my ear. My head shot up and my eyes darted around the place in a panic. I couldn't decide if I was paranoid or finally getting a hang of the powers that went with the gig. The only thing I did know was that I had to trust my instincts now. I placed my hand on Michael's leg and said, "The three of us need to get out of here. We've been in one location for too long."

I motioned to Gram and asked, "When is all of this set to go down, Gram? When is the Gantuk supposed to rise?"

Gram replied, "Tonight. I told you that there were only a few days left, Master, when we began this journey. One way or another, it will end tonight."

"What do I have to do to stop this Gantuk?"

Gram answered simply, "You will know when the time comes."

"Right. Between panicking and more panicking, I'm sure I'll have my head in the right place long enough to deduce how to defeat the Gantuk."

Lonnie said, "You're going to have to if you want to live."

"Comfort. Look it up," I commented. I stood myself up and shut my eyes, visualizing the relic in my hands. The familiar popping sound echoed through the room and the bowl appeared in my hands.

Michael rolled his eyes at my smile and said, "That was just lazy. It was sitting right there on the floor."

"I think I need the practice, don't you? Especially if I'm expected to simply know how to handle things," I replied. I took his hand and pulled him off the sofa. I studied his face, memorizing it out of fear that it was the last time we would be like this together, and that the ultimate sacrifice would have to be made.

Michael grinned that overly-smug smirk of his that he used whenever he won an argument. He leaned in and kissed me. He said, "I know you can do this, Maria. No matter what."

"I think you're the only one with that sort of faith in me."

Lonnie joined us next to Gram. The three of us formed a small huddle together. She patted my arm – a big move for someone like Lonnie – and said, "I have faith in you. Well, some anyway."

"One last thing – who is the Meddecchi, Lonnie? You keep babbling about not being sure, but I need more to go on than that."

Lonnie said, "The Meddecchi isn't a person, Maria. It's an essence or something like that. It invades a person's body and uses it. It can move from person to person – human, alien, random animal in the woods. It finds a creature's weakness and uses it as a gateway to getting control over the body. There aren't many that can match the strength of the Meddecchi and it's able to use that to its advantage. The Meddecchi…it's best not to talk about it for too long. It's as though it knows when it's being mentioned, knows where to go and how to remove your power over your own body"

"The Meddecchi is a shapeshifter?" Michael asked.

"Yes and no. They can take on whatever form they want, the same way that a shapeshifter can, but the Meddecchi isn't like anything we're used to."

Michael glared at her, obviously unhappy with the answer, but I just reached a hand out to both Lonnie and Michael. I said, "Hold on guys. No matter what, don't let go." I motioned to Gram, who snapped his fingers and, within seconds, we were sucked up into another tunnel.

When we landed, both Lonnie and Michael fell to the ground. I raised my hands in victory and said, "I'm still standing. I might be getting the hang of this after all." Off the looks on both their faces, I shrugged and said, "It's the small victories that matter."

"Not tonight," Lonnie replied. She stood up and brushed the dust off of herself. She glanced around the caverns and said, "Now we have to find a place to hide until it's time."

"What about the Meddecchi? Won't it expect to find us here?" Michael asked.

I looked to Gram and said, "We're safe in the caverns." I pointed to the left, where the water splashed down into another small pool of water. I continued, "This is where the map was stored. It can only be accessed by whoever possesses the relic. As long as I've got it, we're okay here until tonight."

"You should rest, Maria," Michael said.

I shook my head, but then agreed with him, "So should you." Michael frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but I added, "Lonnie and I need to have a private chat first."

Michael must have determined that I had my stubborn face on because he gave in without an argument. He shrugged and went over into the far corner and sat down, back propped up against the altar. He stared at me for a moment before shutting his eyes.

I found myself watching Michael for a few seconds. It reminded me of all those nights when he had his arms wrapped around me and I thought we would be like that forever. Unfortunately, forever was rarely in the equation no matter how much I wanted it. And, at the moment, I was willing to give up the idea of ever having that with him again if I knew he would be spared from what was about to happen.

Lonnie cleared her throat to garner my attention. I met her annoyed gaze and shot her one of my own. I didn't pull it off very well though. I wasn't annoyed with her as much as her given role as the "I'm the neutral chosen one."

"Spare me before I gag," Lonnie commented.

Totally annoyed now. I was never fond of people witnessing me at my most mushy and girly, especially when it was someone I barely knew. I frowned and said, "Shut up, Lonnie."

"How about we get back to the matter at hand – saving the universe from the Gantuk. Remember that?"

I didn't answer. I was in no mood to fight with her. Instead, I pulled Lonnie out of Michael's hearing range and said, "There's a ritual to this. Like in my dream."

"The chosen one's subconscious holds all the information necessary for the coming of the Gantuk. That's why we dream about the ritual. It's to prepare us for what's to come."

"But in the dream—"

"It's _exactly_ like the dream. When you place the relic in the center of the room, a weird diagram will form around you and it. That's when you'll need Michael. The amulet is the second part – the piece of the trinity that creates the doorway for the key."

"In the dream there was a little boy. He told me that to save Michael I had to make the ultimate sacrifice."

Lonnie shrugged and said, "I don't know anything about a little boy. There was no little boy in my dreams."

"How did your dreams go?"

"It depended – sometimes you were there, sometimes some random guy, sometimes…" her voice trailed off as though she was afraid to say it.

I finished for her, "Sometimes it's Liz?"

Lonnie replied, "It's her body, but she's not in control."

"I know that," I replied. I _did_ know that. I couldn't fathom my best friend wishing anyone dead.

"But you might have to forget that. It might be better for you to think of Liz as the evil Meddecchi."

I placed my hands on jutted hips and asked, "How do you figure that?"

"Because if it comes down to you or her, you need to be prepared to kill her."

"I'm not killing anybody. I thought I was the _good_ chosen one."

Lonnie laughed mirthlessly. She studied my face and said, "Good, not stupid. The Meddecchi might use her, Maria."

I nodded and said, "Because it knows that hurting Liz would be hard for me. It would give it the advantage."

"It's a possibility. And don't think for a second that the Meddecchi won't think twice about removing any obstacles in its way," Lonnie stated. She moved over toward the altar. She glanced at Michael's resting form and said, "I don't think he can be saved."

I wanted to embrace the five-year-old in me. I wanted to cover my ears with my hands and shout out, "la, la, la…I can't hear you." Instead I moved over next to Michael and slid to the ground. I rested my head on his shoulder and he draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to his chest. I looked up at Lonnie and said, "There has to be a way."

I shut my eyes – my not-so-subtle way of letting Lonnie know that our conversation was over. I couldn't discuss sacrificing Michael like it was no big deal. There was no way I could do it. I wondered if that made me a bad chosen one. I bet Max would do what he had to for his people – so why couldn't I get past my own selfishness?

I knew what I had to do. I had to face the Meddecchi and stop him from helping the Gantuk to cause destruction. When the Gantuk rose, I would have to be the one in control of the trinity, or it would only be the beginning of a lot of pain. And it was time to end this.

I just hoped I didn't get us all killed.

_to be continued..._


End file.
